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CORNELL
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
Date Due
T
^i^MT^
PRINTED IN
(*sr
NO. Z3233
Cornell University Library
DC 137.17.G67 1907
The.jast days of Marie Antoinette
3 1924 024 293 429
Cornell University
Library
The original of tliis book is in
tlie Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924024293429
THE LAST DAYS OF
MARIE ANTOINETTE
THE LAST DAYS OF
MARIE ANTOINETTE
from the french of
(G. LENOTRE, ^s«>c
Author of " The Flight of Marie Anioitietle" ,
S BV
Mrs.' RODOLPH STAWELL,
With many Illustrations
Philadelphia: J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
1907
Il^cz6
Printed in England
CONTENTS
FAaE
Inteobuction ...... . xi
LES FEUILLANTS
Lbs Feuillants (August 10th-13th, 1792) ... 1
DtJFOun's Narrative (August 10th-13th, 1792) ... 4
The Rohan-Chabot Incident (The Night of the 11th August,
1792) 13
THE TEMPLE
The Temple (August 13th, 1792— August 1st, 1793) . . 21
The Narrative op Daujon, Commissioner of the Commtjne
(August, 1792— October, 1793) 33
The Narrative of Turgy, a Manservant Employed in the
Temple (10th August, 1792— 13th October, 1793) . . 59
The Narrative of Town-Counoillor Goret ... 81
The Hecolleotions of Jacques Francois Lbpitre (December,
1792— October, 1793) 102
Extracts from the Narrative of MoSlle, Member of the
Commune ........ 134
CONTENTS
THE CONCIERGERIE
PAGE
The Conciekgerie (August 2nd — October 16th, 1793) . . 144
The Nakkative op Rosalie LAMORLii^KE, Sekvant at the
CoNCiBEGERiE (August — October, 1793) . . 150
Notes by Monsbigneuk de Salamon (1796) . 172
The Inquiry or Madame Simon- Vouet (1836) . . 175
The Narrative of Madame Bault, Widow op the Gaoler
AT THE CoNCiERGERiE PRISON (September 11th — October
16th, 1793) . . . 186
The Queen's Communion in the Conciergerie . . 196
The Recollections of Mademoiselle Pouch^ (Recorded in
1824 by M. le Comte de Robiano) . . . .207
The Declaration of the Abb^ Magnin (1825) . . . 215
THE TRIAL
Notes by Chauveau-Lagarde, Counsel foe the Queen
(14th-16th October, 1793) . . .228
Extract from the Recollections of Moelle, a Member op
THE Commune and a Witness in the Trial (15th-
16th October, 1793) 235
THE EXECUTION
Narrative of Louis Larivi^re, Turnkey in the Concier-
gerie ..... . . 238
The Narrative op De Busne .... 245
Narrative op the Gendarme L^ger .... 247
The Narrative op D^sessarts ..... 249
vi
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Narrative of the Vioomte Charles Despossj^s . . 260
The Narrative op Rouy, Author op "Lb Magioien Rfi-
publioain" ....... 253
MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 255
THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE . . .264
THE EXHUMATION OF THE REMAINS OF KING
LOUIS XVL AND QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE . 269
vil
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Marie Antoinette in Mouening at the Temple . Frontispieca
Mabie Antoinette in Hunting Costume . . To face 8
General Plan of the Temple Precincts in 1792 . . 25
Plan A. — The Scjbkoundings op the Temple Tower in
August, 1792, according to Unpublished Documents . 29
Plan B. — The Surroundings of the Temple Tower in
January, 1793, according to Unpublished Documents . 31
The Princess db Lamballe . ... To face 4A
The Unfortunate Louis XVI. . . . To face 60
The Last Ljtbrview of Louis XVI. with his Family, the
Night before his Execution . . . To face 68
Princess Maria Charlotte Theresa . . To face 80
The Temple Tower in September, 1792 . . To face 84
J. B. CljSry To face 88
Lamoignon de Malbshbebbs ... 2*0 face 92
The Tower, with the Buildings of the Bailliagb of the
Temple (August, 1792) .... To face 94
Death of Louis Capet on the Place de la Revolution
(January 21, 1793)
Madame JIlizabbth . . . . •
Louis XVI. Teaching his Son Geography
Temple ....■•
The Queen's Two Cells in the Conciergerie
To face
96
To face
122
IN THE
To face
138
151
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Passage Leading to the Queen's First Cell in the Concier-
GEBiE — Actual Condition ..... 165
The Cour des Femmbs at the Conoierqeeib . . . 189
The Abb^ Magnin, the Queen's last Confessor To face, 216
The Trial of Marie Antoinette (October 14, 1793) To face 228
Condemnation of Marie Antoinette before the Revo-
lutionary Tribunal .... To face 232
The Queen on Her Way to the Scaffold . . 251
The Cemetery of the Madeleine . . . 265
The Tower and Garden of the Temple, October, 1793 . 279
Plan of the Vault of the Bourbons . . . 282
The Vault of the Bourbons in the Church of Saint-
Denis Tofa^e 282
INTRODUCTION
This is not a new book about Marie Antoinette : it is a
recapitulation, an almost daily record, of the life led by the
prisoner in Les Feuillants, the Temple, and the Conciergerie ;
a collection of notes whose chief merit is their absolute
authenticity.
Nothing has been included but the narratives of eye-
witnesses : of those who, on one ground or another, were
admitted to the Queen's presence during the period between
the 10th August, 1792, and the 16th October, 1793. These
were neither gentlemen of the Court nor official historio-
graphers. The Dangeau and the Saint-Simon of these dark
days were a gaoler's wife, a menial of the pantry, an upholsterer,
a servant-girl, a gendarme, a sweeper — witnesses, that is to say,
whose style does not aim at any great elegance. But I think
their rugged sincerity will strike us as being more impressive
than the poetical and pompous redundancies of the official
writers of the Restoration.
" Marie Antoinette's life in the Temple belongs to History,"
says M. Wallon ; " the reader does not wish such a subject to
be quickly passed over : he is greedy of details and likes to
dwell on them, because, in the face of so striking an example
of the instability of human aifairs, his emotions are as great
as the misfortunes that call them forth." The amazing
contrast between the Queen's first years, between the dream-
like life at Schoenbrunn and Versailles, and her overwhelming
sorrows, is enough to move the most callous heart. One
xi
INTRODUCTION
remembers Trianon and all its flowers as one stands in the
dark cellar of the Conciergerie where the poor woman endured
her death-struggle ; and one perforce contrasts the brilliant
portraits in which we see her all gentleness and smiles, a
majestic figure under her crown of fair hair, with that
sorrowful woman whom Paris saw in the executioner's cart,
wrapped in an old shawl, nearly blind, with the short strands
of white hair round her temples whipping her thin cheeks.
It is not surprising that this melancholy epic should have
proved attractive to a great number of historians. As soon
as the Terror was over the writers set to work ; but either
because the events of the nineteenth century diverted atten-
tion from other things, or because every one was anxious to
forget the horrors of the Revolution as quickly as possible, or
because the chroniclers in question were afraid of rousing into
activity the critics of the Empire by reviving the memory of
the House of Bourbon, twenty years slipped by before any
serious inquiry into the Queen's imprisonment was set on
foot.
Then came the Restoration ; and instantly there was such
a flood of brochures — Les Augustas Victimes — Les Illustres
Persecutes — Les Malheurs de la Reine de France — that in a
few months the supply of elegiacal banalities ran out. It
was only then that the people whom the chances of the Revo-
lution had placed in contact with the prisoners of the Temple
were brought out of their obscurity. There were numbers of
municipal officers, conventionists, gaolers, gendarmes, warders,
and servants of all kinds who, even if they possessed no
original documents, must at least have had accurate recollec-
tions of the drama of 1793. But by the time it occurred to
anyone to question them, many of them were dead ; others,
not caring to remind the royal family of the part they had
played, kept silence ; a few, thinking it to their interest to
speak, told their tale ; and thus it is that we see successively
appearing, between 1815 and 1820, the Narrative of Dufour
Turgy's Fragments, the evidence of Goret and Lepitre, the
xii
INTRODUCTION
Letters from the Widow Bault, the Recollections of Rosalie
Lamorliere, etc.
These narratives, published for the most part in the form
of short pamphlets of a few pages, shared the fate of all
pamphlets : they disappeared. Indeed, I think as a matter
of fact they were not looked for very zealously, for they have
been so, often quoted that everyone thinks he knows them.
All the historians who have described the Temple prison and
told the story of the imprisonment of the royal family have had
these for their only sources of information ; and for such a long
time now every writer has been touching them up and colouring
them, and making dramas out of them, and arranging them
to the best advantage for the support of his own particular
theory, that those who take the pains to consult the ungarbled
text of the original copies find it absolutely unrecognisable.
And yet one would have thought that such valuable and
rare documents, concerned with events such as these, would
have inspired enough respect to save them from the super-
fluous additions that tend to smother not merely their
individual flavoiu-, but also their chief characteristic of
authenticity. Everything that has been thought to be an
improvement to them has, on the contrary, quite remarkably
detracted from their value by robbing them of that vividness
of things seen which no secondhand narrator, however clever
he may be, can ever recapture. To the very clumsiness of
these uncultured tales we owe many an involuntary revelation.
How much it surprises us to hear of the ill-concealed emotion
of the commissioners of the Commune, uneducated men of
narrow mind for the most part, who accepted the office of
guarding the prisoners, and came to the Temple in a spirit
of bravado as it were, filled with excitement and coarse
delight at the idea of hearing Co/pet sigh, and of snubbing
the chattering Austrian. Gradually, as they approached the
Tower, a vague feeling of pity grew upon them ; as they
mounted the stairs they were choking with emotion ; in the
xiii
INTRODUCTION
presence of the prisoners the most truculent were silenced
and the roughest softened by an instinct of respect which
they tried in vain to hide. These simple folk, these artisans
and shopkeepers, were embarrassed by the role that had been
thrust upon them ; without being willing to confess it, they
were ashamed to see the King and Queen lodged in this
narrow, low-ceiled, uncomfortable little room ; and so real
was this feeling of embarrassment that these officials soon
began to avoid the corvee of the Temple, none of them being
willing to undertake it except certain members of the
Commune, always the same, whose devotion the prisoners
had won.
This apparent contradiction is easily explained. In the
intervals of the artificial excitement of which these great
revolutionary demonstrations are born the little Parisian
bourgeois is neither cruel nor vindictive. He is, as much as
any man, the slave of the impression of the moment ; and
had it not been for the overpowering fear that was the pre- .
vailing sentiment in those troubled times, many of the
municipal officers on duty at the Temple would have opened
the door and shut their eyes.
But outside the prisoners' circle of attraction were com-
rades of the club and of the section, boon companions before
whom it was necessary to play at cynicism and curse the
tyrants — for whom any sympathy that was felt was un-
expressed— and the pity that had begun to well up was
weakened by a flood of words over the counter of the wine-
shop. Yes, the thing was well organised, and those who had
schemed it all, now that the tragic climax on which they had
long resolved was near at hand, had skilfully secured the
support of the Parisian populace : they guarded against its
innate sentimentality by playing upon its vanity, interest,
and fear : but now the weights were no longer equal and the
scale dipped upon the wrong side. These remarks may
throw some light upon those inexplicable and complex
xiv
INTRODUCTION
characters, Tison, Busne, Moelle, Lamarche, Bault, Prud'-
homme, Simon, and others whom we shall meet in the course
of these narratives.
There is another element in the story that will be no less
surprising : the calmness, one might almost say the indiffer-
ence, of the prisoners, and the kind of familiar good-fellow-
ship that they showed in their relations with their warders.
Here, again, it seems to me that historians have made the
facts unrecognisable by creating characters all of a piece :
disdainful pride on the part of the prisoners, coarse ferocity
on the part of the gaolers. How much more human is the
relaxation of manners that resulted from this enforced com-
panionship, and what unexpected pictures it evokes ! The
Queen, in the course of a walk in the gardens of the Temple,
sits down under a tree beside the member of the Commune on
duty, and they enter into conversation. The daughter of
Maria Theresa, looking at her prison, asks the official what
he thinks of it. Whereupon the latter describes an expedi-
tion he once made to Coucy-le-Chateau, and embarks upon
the history of Gabrielle de Vergy. The Queen, amused by
the tale, calls her husband, who is at a little distance play-
ing at ball with his son, and both of them then begin
chatting with their gaoler on matters of geography, archaeo-
logy, and travels. And later on the Queen, whose haughti-
ness has been so much insisted upon, shows her gaoler a
collection she has made of her children's hair at different
ages : she sprinkles scent on her hands and waves them before
his face. The whole party plays chess, makes jokes, plays
upon the harpsichord ; there is no sign of haughtiness, no
complaint, no recriminations.
And how these poor women persisted in deluding them-
selves ! With what deceptive details they fed their feverish
and tenacious hopes ! They believed the men of Nantes were
on their way to Paris : the Spanish Army, no doubt, must
have joined them: had they already reached Orleans f Had
XV
INTRODUCTION
not the Swiss declared war ? An interchange was carried on
of notes containing news, written in invisible ink ; romantic
names were used : Produse, Constant, Fidele ; a language of
signs was invented. All this reminds us with a pang of the
comedies of Trianon. Shall we still be here in Augiist ? asked
Madame ^^lizabeth. Alas ! Tell us the bad news as well as
the good, she added. Not ever again would she hear news
that was good.
When, one after another, their illusions have died, when no
earthly hope is conceivable any longer, a noble and mysterious
figure comes upon the scene. We do not refer to the Abbe
Magnin, who, by risking martyrdom for the sake of bringing
some comfort to the Queen, simply fulfilled the duties of his
office, but to that poor girl who had neither money, nor credit,
nor interest, and was, moreover, deformed, yet who by the force
of her own will obliged the whole machinery of the Terror to
yield before her, and simply made her way into the Con-
ciergerie, carrying some fine linen, a cake, and some preserves
for Marie Antoinette. I know of nothing more touching
than the placidity of this girl, who, though brought up behind
an old-clothes shop, was neither disturbed by the presence of
the Queen nor by the coldness with which the prisoner
received her. At once, without regard to her surroiuidings,
fearlessly and quietly she found the right words, and spoke to
the Queen as she would have spoken to one of her neighbours
in trouble. Seeing that the Queen was paying no attention
to her, the brave girl calmly set herself to overcome th^
suspicion with which she felt herself regarded by tasting the
jam and the cake, taking her time over it, without consider-
ing for a single moment that she was under the knife of the
guillotine and that her courage was simply sublime.
For a long time we believed that this story, which sounds
so unlikely and has been so much discussed, was a fabrication.
We shall show why our suspicions have been overcome, and
give the reasons that have led us to accept, as absolutely
true, the narrative of the Abbe Magnin.
xvi
INTRODUCTION
The evidence that we have collected on the subject of the
Queen's last hours is still more affecting. No doubt the
whole story of the martyrdom has already been told : but
what description in the world, even were it by the most
eminent of poets, could rival the tale of those who can say :
/ have seen ? Such are those who will show us the daughter
of Emperors in the anguish of that dawn of the 16th
October, stretched upon her truckle-bed, her cheek resting on
her hand, as through the barred window she watches the
growing light of that sad day. Two candles are flickering
out upon the table; the gendarme, in a corner, is reading
and smoking. The servant enters and offers the prisoner
some broth that she has made for her; but the poor
woman's throat refuses to swallow, and she only takes two
spoonfuls. We shall hear of the abrupt entrance of the
executioner; of the suppressed sighs, and movements of
horror that convulsed the unhappy woman, revolting from
the idea of death ; of the man who cut oiF her hair and put
it in his pocket ....
Such things as these, recorded by those who actually saw
them, are so intensely impressive that they could hardly be
more so if they had taken place under our own eyes.
Afterwards we shall return, with the commissioners who
came back from over there, to the Conciergerie, which, in spite
of the crowd of prisoners, seemed to be empty that day, so
much had the presence of its great victim appeared to fill it.
Here there was a general feeling of consternation in the air.
The Queen's hair was being burnt in the registrar's office ;
that hair — once so fair — which in the days of the pastorals of
the Trianon had lent its name and colour to the stuffs that
clothed the fashionable world. The dead woman's little dog
was wandering piteously through the passages, while an
inventory was being taken of the modest possessions left by
the victim. For a long time to come everyone who awaited
death in this place asked : " ^Vhich was her room ? What
xvii i
INTRODUCTION
did she say ? " It was her memory, already, that dominated
all the others.
Such are the narratives that are here published. Repi-o-
duced as they are in their entirety and arranged in their
present form, they will, we are sure, appear quite new to
many people. Even for those who have made the Revolu-
tion their special study our work, we think, will not be
useless, since it puts at their disposal documents of unques-
tionable interest, documents that it is almost impossible to
find nowadays in their original form. We would especially
call their attention to the most important of these papers,
the greater part of which has remained unpublished until
now. The description it contains of the events of September
2nd and 3rd gives us food for much thought. At that
sinister date the Temple was besieged by a horde of proved
murderers, monsters, drunken brutes, carrying the head,
entrails, and heart of the Princesse de Lamballe. They were
received by the municipal officers on duty, who had a
considerable armed force at their disposal. How were they
received .? With powder and shot .'' Not at all. All the
arms were hidden ; the troops were drawn up in line ; the vile
mob was harangued, with allusions to its glory and its
exploits ; and the commissioners put themselves at the head
of the procession that carried the hideous trophy. It is true
that the triumphant horde was carried off in another direc-
tion by this means ; but how much more quickly the same
end would have been gained by stopping its progress in the
beginning by a briskly sustained fire .''
This narrative of Daujon's is perhaps the saddest of all, in
that it explains the others ; showing us the authorities
compounding with the murderers and bowing before their
threats. The same weakness that was the undoing of
Louis XVI. was destined, by a strange repetition of history,
to be the undoing of those who had compassed his fall.
With the exception of certain expressions whose coarseness
it is impossible to reproduce, we have deleted nothing from
xviii
INTRODUCTION
Daujon's manuscript. A number of incidents are recorded in
it whose horror, some may think, should have been modified
— such as those unutterable words of the Dauphin. But our
respect for the truth is too great, and our independence in
searching for it too sincere, to allow us to curtail the deposi-
tion of a witness and to choose from it only what pleases us.
Facts — let us have facts ! Let us first find out how events
occurred : judgment can be passed on them later. The
history of the Revolution is still only at the stage of enquiry
and examination. When the dossier is complete the time
will come for addressing the jury ; the verdict then will at
all events be found in full knowledge of the facts, and if the
occasion arises each individual may, with a safe conscience,
pronounce the words of condemnation or of acquittal.
XIX
LES FEUILLANTS
(AuGnsT 10-13TH, 1792)
It was the 10th August, 1792, and the hour was seven o'clock
in the morning. The Legislative Assembly met in the Riding
School of the Tuileries, and entered upon that great sitting
whose tragic issues are for ever memorable.
The deputies, like the whole of Paris, were in a state of fever :
the excited mob surged round the hall, ready at any moment to
break out into open riot ; everyone felt that the hour of the
crisis was about to strike and that it would be terrible. Upon
the benches the tumult, agitation, and confusion were indescrib-
able ; outside the walls If.ie murmuring throng grew ever larger ;
in the narrow corridor that connected the hall with the Passage
des Feuillants an overwhelming multitude was crowded : in the
passage itself the murderous work had actually begun ; several
heads were raised aloft on pikes.
Suddenly a man appeared at the bar of the hall, and announced
breathlessly that the King and his family were crossing the
gardens, on their way to take refuge with the Assembly. Almost
at the same moment there appeared at the wide entrance that
yawned under the seats of the members the soldiers of the
Royal Guard, trying with fixed bayonets to force their way
through the dark passage in which the frantic crowd was
struggling. There was a general cry : "No soldiers! No arms ! "
The benches were emptied in an instant ; the deputies dashed
down and repulsed the Guard. At that moment the King
appeared ; then from the back-wash of the surge came the
Queen, with Madame Elizabeth holding Madame Royale by the
hand, and behind them a grenadier of the National Guard
carrying the Dauphin above the level of the people's heads.
There was a moment of comparative silence while the two hostile
powers, the Court and the Assembly, reconciled for an instant by
their common danger, faced each other in dismay.
1 B
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
TheDj while an aimless discussion followed, leading to nothing,
— the deputies arguing, with an afifectation of calmness, as to
whether the King should sit here or there — came the news from
without of a succession of disasters.
The palace had been broken into ; M. Mandat had just been
murdered ; the insurgent army was gaining ground ; its furious
waves were beating against the walls of the Riding School with a
noise like the thunder of a raging sea ; the courts were invaded.
The Assembly, over-confident in its own authority, decreed that
twenty of its members should be commissioned to speak to the
people and soothe their agitation. It was half-past nine when
they started on this errand. Suddenly the report of a gun was
heard : the whole hall rose and listened, trembling. The public,
crowded together in the galleries, were jostling each other in the
effort to escape, when an officer of the National Guard, bursting
through the barrier, rushed into the semicircle crying : " To
your places, gentlemen ; they are breaking in ! "
The president — it was Guadet— -left his seat and sought
shelter. From without came a sound of roaring guns ; and during
the short interval between the constant reports could be heard
the sustained fire of musketry, drawing closer and closer to the
Assembly. At this point the twenty deputies who had been
despatched to make peace returned in disorder. One of them,
Lamarque, with a gesture of despair addressed the president, but
his words were hardly distinguishable.
" We reached the end of the court of the Riding School — We
came too late ! — An immense crowd of armed men — we know no
more— we could not possibly go any further."
His voice was lost in the tumult : the tocsin was ringing at the
churches of the Conception, Saint Roch, and the Assumption,
the sound of the guns was growing louder every moment : some
musket-shots were aimed at the windows of the Riding School,
and shivered the glass to atoms. Some of the deputies attempted
to fly, but were recalled and prevented from leaving the hall.
" It is here that we ought to die ! "
A yell arose from the galleries : " Here are the Swiss
Guards ! "^ And the Assembly, believing their last hour had
1 As a matter of fact some Swiss Guards tried to force the doors of the
hall, in order to protect the royal family from the insurgents, who were on
the point of breaking into the Riding School. Weber mentions the fact
in his Mimoires :
"We shouted to the gendarmes to let us in,'' he writes, "but they
2
LES FEUILLANTS
comcj rose as one man and answered with a shout : " Five la
libertS, vive la nation ! "
We have no intention of giving a detailed account of that long
and agonising day : we have merely summed up, almost in the
original words, the principal facts recorded in the official report.i
This sketch will suffice to show the extent of the prevailing
agitation, the complete absence of decided action, and the con-
fusion and terror that reigned on the occasion. The armies on
both sides of the struggle were marching with their eyes shut,
and none could foresee what the morrow would bring forth. It
is certain that at midday on the 10th August the King was still
hoping to return to the Tuileries in the evening. " We shall
come back," the Queen had said as she left the palace ; for no
one dreamt that the royal family were about to be imprisoned.
But in this great catastrophe in which the two powers were
foundering, the Assembly, at all events, understood that they
must abstain from mortgaging the future : since the deluded
King had taken refuge in the camp of the enemy it behoved the
latter to see that such a precious hostage did not escape : later
on they would know better what course to adopt.
It was then they decided that the royal family should stay for
the time in the precincts of the Assembly itself, in the Convent
of Les Feuillants, whither, led by an eye-witness, we are about
to foUow them. In this rough, unstudied story we shall see
signs of the same distraction and confusion that reigned in the
Assembly.
It is the deposition of a man of whom we know nothing except
that his name was Dufour ; of whose profession, even, we are
ignorant, as well as of the reasons that brought him to this place.
His short memorandum is valuable, nevertheless, in that he
records — though only superficially it is true — a series of facts
which the witnesses who were in a better position to do so did not
think of describing.^
answered that the thing was impossible, for the doors had been barricaded
on the inside ever since the arrival of the Court. We flung ourselves, a
dozen at a time, against the great door : it was beginning to yield, but
for want of sappers all our efforts came to nothing. "
^ See the Parliamentary Archives, vol. XLVII, p. 616-676.
^ Dufour's narrative appeared in 1814 with the following title : The
Four Days of the Terror. Details of th£ four days passed by Louis X VI. ,
King of France, and his august family, in the Legislative Assembly, from
the Wth August, 1792, to the ISth of the same month, when they were tahen
to the Tower of the Temple.
3 B 2
DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE
(August 10th-13th, 1792)
I SPENT the night between the 9th and 10th August under
arms in the Place Vendome, because the company to which
I was attached had declared for the King. At about three
o'clock in the morning this company proceeded to the palace
of the Tuileries, but being prevented from entering the
building, it retired to the Place Vendome, whither I followed
it. At about six o'clock in the morning everything seemed
to have calmed down, and I thought the danger was over, in
which beHef I hastened with all possible speed to my father,
who was very ill. On my return I saw no sign of the com-
pany mentioned above, and when I approached the Palace
everything seemed quiet, and the mob had disappeared. I
reached the grand staircase undisturbed ; but what was my
surprise when I saw it covered with corpses, piled one upon
another. With a beating heart I paused for a moment to
collect my thoughts. A thousand ideas flashed into my
mind. I pictured a murdered King, and with him all his
family and many another victim, among whom, perhaps, there
might be some still breathing, to whom I could bring help.
Inspired by this idea, I determined to go upstairs and
through the rooms, which I did amid a silence that was really
amazing ; and I met no one. I returned to the King's bed-
room, thinking it likely that during such scenes of violence
there might have been some who had hidden themselves;
and since this seemed a propitious moment for them to escape,
I was going to suggest that they should take advantage of it.
But before doing so I took the precaution of listening at the
4
DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE
head of the grand staircase. I had not been there for two
minutes when I heard a fearful clamour, and not knowing in
which direction to fly, I locked myself into the King's room.
The crowd soon reached the door and knocked upon it
violently, but I called out from within in a firm tone of
voice : " This is not the way ; go round on the other side."
The leader went through the Grand Gallery, and all the
others followed him. When, as far as I could hear, they had
all passed on, I came out of the room and followed them, for
I feared to meet another band of them on the staircase, and
wished to see what they were going to do. I saw them
trampling the most valuable things under foot, and breaking
mirrors and chandeliers, etc., so that in a moment these
splendid rooms were a mere ruin. Some of these men had
entered the King's dressing-room, where they were flinging
coats and decorations on the floor, while others tried the
clothes on and cursed his Majesty. Through these maniacs
I learnt that the King, at nine o'clock in the morning, having
come to the conclusion that he could not stay in the Palace
of the Tuileries without exposing the whole royal family to
the greatest danger, had determined to retire with his family
to the Legislative Assembly. I did not lose a moment in
following them. I forced my way through the crowd, and
found myself close to the reporter's-box of the Logographe,
in which I discovered that unhappy royal family delivered
into the hands of their cruel enemies. All the corridors were
filled with the terrorists, who were loudly demanding a mas-
sacre. I retired to my own home in the Faubourg Saint
Honore for a moment's breathing-space, and as I reached my
door I saw three people murdered. They threw themselves at
the feet of their assassins entreating for mercy ; but nothing
could stay those murderous hands, and I saw the three victims
expire within a few yards of me. My entreaties were dis-
regarded, and perhaps I should have suffered the same fate if
I had persisted any longer. I had just passed through the
Garden of the Tuileries and the Champs-l^lysees, where the
ground was covered with dead bodies. This horrible scene
had quite xmnerved me, and I remained for a quarter of an
hour in my own house. I then proceeded to the Garde-Meubk
5
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
of the Crown, where I found M. SuUeau,^ and asked him if he
were aware of the troubles of the royal family. " Yes," he
answered, sorrowfully ; " and at this moment I am having two
trucks loaded with beds, for the furnishing of some little
rooms that are being made ready for their Majesties."^
When the trucks were loaded no one dared to drag them;
for so great was the terror that prevailed that the porters who
are always waiting about at the street-corners in Paris would
not come into the Garde-Meuble at any price. It was, how-
ever, important that the little suite of rooms should be
furnished without delay, in order that the royal family might
be released from their sufferings in the uncomfortable place
where they then were. I succeeded, by dint of many
entreaties, in persuading twelve porters whom I found at
the door of Les Feuillants to drag the trucks ; but we had
considerable trouble in accomplishing our end on account of
the great crowds that filled the courts. I immediately had
the beds taken up to the little suite of rooms in question,
which comprised four cells, and two others a little further on
for Madame Elizabeth. At about seven o'clock in the evening
' Fran9ois Suleau, editor of the Actes des Apdtres and of the journal that
bore his name, left his house on the 10th August at about hali-past eight
in the morning. Being recognised and arrested almost at once, he was
taken to the guard-house in the Cour des Feuillants and murdered by the
populace, together with the Abb6 Bouyou, MM. de Solminiao and du
Vigier, — both members of the Body Guard — and five other victims. Their
bodies were thrown into the Place Vend6me (see August Vitu, FranQois
Suleau). The above does not refer to him, then. But Suleau had two
brothers, one of whom contributed later on to the Drapeau Blanc, a
iournal founded by Martainville. It was this ardent royalist, doubtless,
who helped Dufour to furnish the rooms allotted to Louis XVI. 's family.
2 On the 10th August, during the morning sitting, Verniaud, in the
name of the Commission of Twelve, brought forward a bill relating to the
suspension of the Head of the Executive Power.
Article 7 of this bill was as follows : " The King and his family will
remain within the precincts of the Legislative Assembly until peace is
restored in Paris."
This measure was immediately passed ; in consequence of which the
family of Louis XVI. remained during the day of the 10th and part of the
following night, in the reporter's box of the Logotachygraphe, in the Riding
School of the Tuileries. At ten o'clock in the evening — the sitting did not
close till half-past three in the morning — some members commissioned by
the Assembly conducted the King, the Queen, the Dauphin, Madame
Royale, and Madame Elizabeth to the upper storey of the Convent of the
Feuillants, the ground-floor of which was occupied by the ofiioes and Com-
mittee-rooms of the Assembly. (See Parliamentary Archives, Ist series,
vol. XLVII, and the Mimoirea de Madame de Tourzel.)
6
DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE
Madame la Comtesse de Tourzel came to inspect it, and
observed that the royal family had no underlinen. I at once
made it my business to procure some. It was difficult to find
any little shirts for the Dauphin, but I succeeded in obtaining
some.
Their Majesties had been in the haU of the Assembly
uninterruptedly from nine o'clock in the morning till ten
o'clock at night, and had experienced the greatest suiFering
and every imaginable privation, for no one had given any
thought to their needs. When at ten o'clock their Majesties
retired to the little suite of rooms mentioned above,^ they
were overcome with fatigue after their long sitting in the
Assembly. They were dying with thirst, but I had nothing
but water to offer them, and they were much inconvenienced
by the small size of their quarters. The royal family were
accompanied by Madame la Princesse de Lamballe, Madame
la Comtesse de Tourzel, Madame Auguaire and Madame
d'Egremont.^
' In conformity with the Assembly's decree some cells in the Convent of
Les Feuillants were made ready for the reception of the royal family.
The King was alone in his room .... the Queen and Madame were
together in the second cell, and Madame Elizabeth, Madame de Lamballe,
and I were put into the third with Monseigneur le Dauphin. It is easy to
imagine the kind of night we passed, distinctly hearing the noise in
the Assembly, the applause and clapping in the galleries ; and excepting
Monseigneur le Dauphin and Madame, who were so much overcome with
fatigue that they fell asleep on the spot, not one of us closed an eye all
night ....
"Some commissioners came at 11 o'clock at night to see if each of us
was in bed in his or her allotted cell. " — Madame de Tourzel's Mimoires.
" The spelling of the names so inaccurately written by Dufour can be
easily rectified. Madame Daigremont was the wife of the ta/pissier of the
Assembly. As for Madame Auguaire, she was Madame Adelaide Aughi6,
the daughter of M. Genet, Chief Secretary for Foreign AfiFairs, and the
sister of Madame Campan. She had married M. AughiA, farmer-general
of the duchies of Lorraine and Bar, who forsook this lucrative position
later on for the less profitable office of Postmaster-General. Queen Marie
Antoinette was much attached to Madame Aughie, whom she had made
her first woman-of-the-bedehamber. On the 6th October, the 20th June,
and the 10th August Adelaide Aughi6 bravely stood by her sovereign,
whom she followed, as we see, to Les Feuillants. The Queen called her
" mi/ Lioness." When the royal family were moving from Les Feuillants
to the Temple Madame Aughil contrived, at the moment of parting, to slip
twelve hundred francs in gold, which she always carried about with her in
case of accidents, into Marie Antoinette's hand. When the Queen appeared
before the Revolutionary Tribunal she was asked who had given her this
money. She admitted that it had been given to her by Madame Aughi^,
and M. Aughi6 was arrested. Thanks to Madame Aughi^ her husband was
7
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Their Majesties passed a fearful night ; for the terrorists
came close to their rooms and recommenced their insults and
threats. It was feared that they would overpower the sentries
and come in, and that a massacre would foUow. I spent the
night on a bench near the King's rooms, and several times
I saw that the people were trying to break in the grating
that was at the end of the passage. The sentries had great
difficulty in restraining these savages.
I awaited the daylight with great impatience, hoping that
with the dawn all these atrocities would grow less violent, but
they continued just the same.
When one of the ladies appeared at the door that led to the
rooms she was obliged to retreat at once, being alarmed by the
yells outside. Every time I looked in the direction of that
grating it seemed to me that I must be in the menagerie,
watching the fury that the wild beasts show when any one
appears in front of their bars.^
forgotten for several months, in the prisons of the Terror ; but all that she
had been through had affected her mind, and one day she wrote a letter to
the Committee of Public Safety, saying that she was about to kill herself,
and entreating that in consideration of this sacrifice her husband might be
spared. She accordingly threw herself out of the window and was tilled,
two days before the 9th Thermidor. It is said that her funeral procession
was stopped by the passing of the cart in which Robespierre and his
accomplices were being taken to the scaffold. M. Aughi6 was set free, and
remained a widower with three daughters, one of whom, Aglae, married
Marshal Ney. (Information supplied by M. Partiot, great-grandson of
Madame Aughi^. )
It was to Madame Aughi6 that Marie Antoinette gave the portrait
painted by the request of the Empress Maria Theresa, by the German
artist Werthmnller. It appears at the beginning of this volume. The
Queen was represented in hunting-costume ; and on her head was a large
felt hat adorned with a rose and draped with a veil that hung about her
shoulders. This picture, so precious on many grounds, was hidden during
the Revolution, and, by a superfluity of precaution, with the idea of
making it unrecognisable, the hat was replaced by a large peruke, and the
veil was altered into a kind of mantle covering the dress. Madame
Partiot, nie. de la Ville, a granddaughter of Madame Aughifi, afterwards
found this portrait in an attic. She entrusted it to Isabey, who undertook
to restore the original picture, and did actually restore the dress. But he
dared not i scrape off the peruke, [for fear of being obliged to touch up the
face, which had remained in its original state, and was painted with
marvellous delicacy of tone.
It was in this condition, then, that the picture was placed in M.
Partiot's gallery, and it is he who has so kindly allowed us to reproduce
this hitherto nrvpuUished portrait of the Queen. We beg him to accept our
sincere gratitude.
' At the FeuUlants the King and Queen saw MM. de Choiseul, de
Briges, de Br6z§, de Goguelat, de NantouiUet, and d' Aubier ; and the last,
8
MARIE ANTOINETTE IN HUNTING COSTUME.
An unpublished portrait painted by Werthmiiller, and given by the Queen
to Mme. Anghi^, the sister of Mme. Campan. (M. Partiot's Collection.)
DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE
Yet the royal family were obliged to pass that way four
times a day, and all that they heard and suffered may be
imagined.
At about six o'clock in the morning, remembering that their
Majesties had eaten nothing throughout the preceding day,
I began to devise means of procuring some breakfast for
them. Being irnable to apply to the King's cooks, I went to
an eating-house and ordered breakfast to be prepared ; and at
half-past eight I laid the table and sent to inform their
Majesties that breakfast was ready. They came to the table ;
but their sorrows were their only food. They raised their
eyes to heaven and sighed ; and soon they rose and returned
to their rooms, and thence to the Legislative Assembly.^
The Queen was extremely iU. Indeed it was astonishing that
she had the courage to remain through such long sittings in
a Httle box where there was hardly room for her, so closely
packed was it with people.
Some of the gentlemen of the Court had been rash enough
to make their way into the corridors, with the intention of
seeing their Majesties. They had been seen as they came in,
and suddenly there was a great commotion in all the passages
of the building. The people shouted : " Prince so-and-so is
here, and others too ! " but, just as the search for them
began, the tapissier of the Legislative Assembly, with one of
his friends, seized them by the arm and began to sing and
dance. It was thus that they escaped the fury of the people,
who would, perhaps, have murdered them.
with respectful sympathy, offered the Queen 25 lonis and a cambric
handkerchief, " for hers was drenched with tears." Being quite penniless
Marie Antoinette accepted the gift, thanking M. d'Aubier with a heart-
broken smile, "which," he says, "hurt me." It was necessary to speak
in undertones because of the children, who were asleep, and of the guards,
who could hear what was said. In the next room, Madame Elizabeth, the
Princesse de Lamballe, and Madame de Tourzel were talking of the terrible
events that had succeeded each other so rapidly and had reached a climax
so quickly; and the Queen's name was mentioned. "I think she is
doomed," said Madame de Lamballe ; "listen." And indeed, the mob was
howling under the windows, and demanding her head. — De Vyr^, Marie
Antoinette.
' On the 11th August, at seven o'clock in the morning, and not at nine,
as Dufour intimates, the King and his family resumed their places in the
box that had been assigned to them on the previous day. — Parliamentary
Archives, vol. XLVIII.
9
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
At ten o'clock in the morning I went to the house of
M. Thieri de Vildavrai, the King's first valet-de-chambre, and
describing to him the deplorable state to which the royal
family was reduced, I asked him if he could see to the
preparation of their Majesties' dinner. He answered eagerly
that he was ready to do anything that would tend to their
comfort, but that he was doubtful as to the possibility of
introducing the dinner into the building. I reassured him,
promising to undertake the matter myself, and to carry it out
with all possible care.
On that same day M. Thieri came to see the King, which
seemed to give great pleasure to his Majesty, for this was
the only person he had been able to see since the beginning
of this sad state of things. At two o'clock I returned to
M. Thi^ri's house, and found the dinner ready. Four men
carried it ifl baskets, and I walked in front to make way.
Insults, and libels on the royal family, were flung at me as
I passed ; and the people tried to raise the napkins, saying
they felt very much inclined to eat the dinner. I told them
I kept an eating-house, and it would be I that would suffer
if they did so. By this means I kept them quiet, and with
great difficulty reached my destination.
The room in which their Majesties were to dine was an
office. With great difficulty I obtained leave to lay the
table, being helped by two people who had refused to desert
Madame Elizabeth. I allowed them to go on with the work
by themselves while I escorted their Majesties, who were
obliged to walk down the whole length of a long corridor to
reach the table. This corridor was crowded with people, and
the terrorists were forming the most treacherous designs.
The royal family were exposed to all the full fury of these
men, and were subjected to a thousand insults, and even to
occasional threats. I did my best to be always with their
Majesties, in order to take precautions against the unpleasant-
ness to which they were constantly exposed, day and night.
When their Majesties had dined they returned to their
rooms, and there allowed their tears to flow freely ; then they
proceeded to the Assembly. The crowd very often gathered
under the windows of the King's apartments, and I went
10
DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE
down to listen to what they were saying about their
Majesties. I noticed one man in particular who, in terrifying
terms, was urging the people to go upstairs and massacre the
royal family. His words made my blood boil, and, forgetting
the danger to which I should expose myself in my efforts to
avert a stiU greater peril, I scanned the faces around me, and
determined to chase this dangerous man away by force. On
the following day at the same hour I again found this
individual making similar speeches. I was no less moved
than on the previous day, and taking the same precautions
I chased the monster away with greater violence than before.
I saw him no more.
A moment later the royal family proceeded to the Assembly
as usual. M. Thieri continued to visit the King constantly,
which was a great comfort to his Majesty, for they probably
had many things to talk over together in connection with
the melancholy state of affairs. One day the King left the
gallery very hurriedly, and asked me if M. Thieri had gone.
" Sire, he left a moment ago." — " I am sorry." — " Sire, I
will run after him." I succeeded in finding him. " Monsieur,"
I said, " it seems that his Majesty forgot to say something to
you." He returned to speak to the King, and when I opened
the door I saw gratitude plainly written on the fine face of
that good King. M. Thieri, as he went out, told me he had
noticed with pleasure the care with which I served their
Majesties, and added, that as soon as matters were more
settled I should be rewarded. On the following day his
Majesty honoured me by expressing his satisfaction with the
zeal I showed in serving him.
The Queen had lost her locket. This seemed to distress
her very much, and I promised her to look for it with the
greatest care. I was fortunate enough to find it, and I had
it returned to her without delay, which seemed to give her
much pleasure. This locket, or medallion, contained portraits
of the King, the Queen, the Dauphin, and Madame Royale.
A little circlet of gold was its only ornament.
All the days were full, more or less, of the same anxieties
and the same miseries. On the fourth day I absented myself
for an hour in order to go to my own home, having been
11
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
unable to do so since the 10th. I wished to change my linen.
On my return I saw no sentries^ at the gate, nor any at the
door of the King's rooms. The doors were open. I entered,
and soon perceived that something unfortunate had occurred.
I went down to see Madame d'Egremont, the wife of the
tapissier of the Legislative Assembly, and she told me sorrow-
fully that their Majesties had been removed to the Tower of
the Temple.
" Alas, alas ! " I cried. " Then the doom of the best of
kings is sealed ! Madame," I added, " to-day the troubles of
France are beginning."
I much regretted having left the place. Nothing would
have induced me to forsake that illustrious family, even
though the alternative had been to die with them. I asked
myself: " Who will care for their Majesties' comfort ? Some
Jacobins before whom they will not dare to speak." But
when I learnt that M. Cl^ry was with their Majesties I was
partly comforted. M. Thieri de Vildavrai fell a victim to
his devotion, for he was stabbed to death.
' On Monday the 13th the King was excused from attending the sitting
of the Assembly, and the morning was spent in making preparations for
moving to the Temple.
12
THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT
(The Night of the 11th August, 1792)
The history of the four days of the imprisonment endured
by the royal family in the Feuillants, from the 10th to the ISth
August, 1792, has never been written. For the narrative that
we have just read is merely an anecdote related by one who
played a very insignificant part on the occasion, and saw only
one side of the affair.
There are still fewer details in the stories of those who were
in more important positions. Madame de Tourzel, Goguelat,
and even the Duchesse d'Angoul6me herself, are dumb with
regard to this first period of Louis XVI.'s imprisonment. The
course of events was so rapid, the general feeling of surprise so
great, the climax so sudden, that the actors in the drama were
reduced to a state of coma, so to speak, by the reaction following
upon their feverish time of waiting, and were really hardly con-
scious of. ■q'haS;,'(f as- taking place. = . , ,, , ,, , ,
N.evlsjiKelesD 'it^ wis -theste eightj ho.arij thkt constituted the
real crisis in the aflPairs of the IVlonarchy.
As long as the Ein^'s= fate'^ wdfs tfacer j;aip,; hope was still
possible to those faithful foliqw-ej^. yfl/o' atoodP by Mm to the end.
They were allowed to approach their master, to receive his orders,
to take counsel with him ; and no doubt these last hours were
occupied in trying to devise some means of duping the victorious
party and robbing them of their prisoners.
What mad schemes were formed in those four little rooms of
the Feuillants .'' What daring deeds were suggested, yet never
definitely determined upon .'' We do not know. But there are
certain documents that testify so plainly both to the tenacious
courage of the royal family's supporters, and to the fears of the
Assembly that they would be robbed of their hostages, that we
It
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
are justified in believing some plan of escape did actually exist,
some plan which the King, having learnt the hard lesson of
Varennes, no doubt rejected.
The incident initiated by the deputy of Grangeneuve during
the evening sitting of August 11th is rather a vague piece of
evidence, but it is valuable in default of anything better : for
besides being a plain indication of the anxiety of the Assembly
and the determination of the royalists, it was also the first essay
in the judicial methods of the revolutionaries. Later on, under
the regime of the Law of the Suspect, Fouquier-Tinville adopted
exactly the same procedure that was used when, on this occasion,
the Legislative Assembly assumed the functions of a court of
law.
We will give the official documents verbatim.
(^Legislative Assembly. — Sitting of the 11th August, 1792, in
the evening.)
M. Grangeneuve. — I wish to inform the Assembly of
an extremely important fact. As I was on my way to the
Comite de Surveillance I saw, in the neighbourhood of that
Committee, fifty or sixty men professing to be National
Guards. I met among them a certain Prince de Poix and
many people of that sort. Gentlemen, as long as such people
as these are near the King we cannot answer for him. I
call upon the Assembly to decree that the Kin^ and his
' fajnily'.shaJil be.'rrtbve'd t>^hcmj; delay' to soi'afi'. at3ier\ pl'g,ce,
fot it'ig- im^os^\^l£orf}[A'-Gamite-Ue-Sm-veiUance\c> 'tfontihue
their work in the^pfeseat state.of. things.^ I would remark,
in the first placeJjfhat/pVhfpScplbts &,r6 being made at this
moment to ciilry 'off the King.
M. Calon, Superintendent of the Hall. — It was the officer
in command of the guard who gave the King a guard
of twenty-five men. At the time these gentlemen noticed
that there were fifty of them the guard was being relieved.
M. Choudieu. — I wish to propose some resolutions that are
of the utmost importance and should be adopted on the spot
by the Assembly. The first is that the Assembly should
1 The cells in which the royal family were lodged were used as an office
by the GomiU de Surveillance of the Assembly.
14
THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT
find out the name of the man who is at this moment in
command of the guard of the National Assembly and of
the King, so that he may be made responsible.
The second is that the names of those who are about
the King's person, as well as the names of his guard, should
be made known to the Assembly, in order that we may know
if they are really National Guards.
The third is that the Assembly should pass sentence
of death upon every man who shall be found wearing the
uniform of a National Guard without being enrolled in a
battalion. All these measures are indispensable, and I
demand that they may be put to the vote. I believe that
the safety of Paris, of the Assembly, and of the King,
depends upon them.
M. Thueiot.^ — ^I should like to add to these yet another
resolution : namely, that the National Assembly should decree
that, imtil the King and his family are removed to the
place where they are to reside, no person shall be admitted
to his presence without special permission to that effect
from the National Assembly, — and that this should be
considered in connection with M. Choudieu's last proposition.
M. Gkangeneuve. — Let us adjourn !
M. Thueiot. — But I do not wish to adjourn. I call upon
the Assembly to decree on the spot that every man found
wearing the uniform of a National Guard without being en-
rolled shall be condemned to be three years in irons. I think
that penalty is sufficiently severe.
(The Assembly then adopted the two first measures
proposed by M. Choudieu, referred the second resolution
of M. Thuriot to the Legislative Committee, and took no
action with regard to the last.)
M. Choudieu. — I propose that the gendarmerie who form
your guard and have, hitherto, shared the labours of the
National Guard with so much zeal and public spirit, shall
also share with that body the duty of guarding the King.
^ Thuriot had just come back from the Guildhall, whither he had hast-
ened to inform the Commune ' ' that a plot was being formed to carry oflf
the King, and the guard was not sufficiently strong " ; and to beg that the
measures necessary to meet this danger might be taken as quickly as
possible (Procis-verhaux de la Commune de Paris, 11 aoilt).
15
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
(The Assembly passed this resolution.)
M. Breaed. — I propose that two members of the Comiti
de Surveillance should be authorised to inspect the posts of
aU the sentinels stationed roimd the Assembly, to make sure
that all is well, and report upon them to the Assembly.
(The Assembly passed this new resolution.)
A Citizen appeared at the bar, introducing a man who
had been loitering imder the King's windows, and whose
intentions seemed suspicious.
M. Choudieu. — I propose that M. le President should be
authorised to give orders that those who are with the King
shall be prevented from leaving him ; I propose that the
King should be requested to give the names of those who are
with him ; and as soon as you know, by means of this list,
that M. Narbonne, M. de Poix, and others, are with the
King instead of being at their posts, I shall propose that
they be brought, under a strong and reliable guard, to the
bar of the Assembly, to give an account of their conduct
and the motives that bring them here.^ (Cheers.)
(The Assembly passed M. Choudieu's resolution.)
M. Rohan-Chabot, in the dress of a private individual,
was conducted to the bar by the citizen mentioned above.
The Puesident (Frangais de. Nwntes). — Sir, the National
Assembly wiU be glad to learn who you are.
M. Rohan-Chabot. — I am a grenadier in the battalion of
L'Abbaye-Saint-Germain. I was on duty yesterday. When
the King came from the Tuileries to the National Assembly
I was one of those who accompanied him. I remained here
until five o'clock in the morning, at which hour those who
were not in the King's Guard were told that they might go
away if they had nothing more to do. I went to change my
linen and other clothes. I returned, to be with the King,
for I have not left him since he has been here. I saw no
' It is evident that the debates of the Assembly were regulated from
the Guildhall, by the Commune of Paris. For we see in the minutes of
the municipal meeting of the 11th that attention is called to " the presence
of unauthorised patrols in the vicinity of Les Peuillants ; M. de Poix and
de Narbonne are with the King ; some National Guards wearing white
rosettes are intending to carry off the King to-night." The legislative
body was on this occasion, it is plain, merely the faithful and obedient
echo of the municipal body of the insurrectionists.
16
THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT
one with him but those who are attached to his person, such
as M. Tourzel, M. de Poix, and M. Debris, and two or three
others as well. When I came here I was told that those who
were with the King were to stay. I know nearly all of them,
so I wished to find out about them. I asked, therefore,
where the concierge lived, and made a messenger from the
oflBce take me to her house. And it was just as I was entering
her house that I was stopped and brought before you by the
person who told you I had been loitering for a long time
under the King's windows. I defy him to prove that I
remained there for longer than one minute. A messenger,
as I have just said, was showing me the way when this person,
who stopped me and whom I do not know, seized me by the
coat and said to me : " Sir, you are prowling about in the
neighbourhood of the King, and you will follow me to the
Assembly." I answered : " Willingly — for my conscience does
not reproach me for anything, and I defy anyone to prove
that I am a spy."
A Member. — This gentleman says he has been on guard
near the King's person from yesterday morning until this
morning. Would you be kind enough to question him as to
what battalion he is serving in .''
The President. — In what battalion are you serving ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — I have had the honour of telling you
that I am in the battalion of L'Abbaye-Saint-Germain.
The President. — Were you ordered on duty yesterday at
the palace ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — I was about to do myself the honour
of finishing what I had to say when M. le President interrupted
me. I believe that my battalion was at the palace : but on
the evening of the day before yesterday I was told that fears
were entertained for the King's safety, and that the palace
was guarded : and so I went there myself.
M. Haussmann. — ^Then, as the gentleman went to the
palace without orders, he should be taken to his own section
and examined there.
M. Maribon-Montaut. — I wish to observe, gentlemen,
that the citizen at the bar shows an astonishing ignorance of
his duty. He is a grenadier, he says, in a battalion, and he
17 c
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
does not know that when the alarm is beaten his post is
with his battaHon. The citizen at the bar is guilty, in that
he was with the King without orders, and that he was not
with his battalion. I call upon you, then, to send the citizen
to prison. (Cheers.)
M. Beeard. — I wish to observe that this person is said to
have been an aide-de-camp to M. La Fayette and a member
of the King's Guard. I beg you will ask him if it is true.
The Pkesident. — Were you aide-de-camp to M. de la
Fayette after the beginning of the Revolution ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — Yes, Monsieur.
The President. — And was it after that time that you
served in the King's Guard ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — -Yes, Monsieur.
The President. — Since when have you been in the
National Guard .''
M. Rohan-Chabot. — Since the beginning of the Revolution,
except during the time that I was aide-de-camp to M. La
Fayette and serving in the King's Guard.
The President. — What was your father's profession ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — He had none.
The President. — What is your name ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — Rohan-Chabot ; but I may add that
I only use the name of Chabot.
The President. — Have you always served in the same
battalion since you were enrolled in the National Guard .-'
M. Rohan-Chabot. — Always, Monsieur le President, except
during the time when I was aide-de-camp to M. La Fayette
and was serving in the King's Guard.
The President. — When M. La Fayette came to the Na-
tional Assembly did you accompany him as his aide-de-camp ?
M. Rohan-Chabot. — M. le President, it is a long time
since I was M. La Fayette's aide-de-camp ; I did not accom-
pany him when he appeared at this bar, and I was not
within the precincts of the legislative body when he came
here.
M. Choudieu. — I beg that the gentleman may be questioned,
not as to whether he accompanied M. La Fayette to the bar
as his aide-de-camp, because we aU know that M. La Fayette
18
THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT
appeared there alone, and that the aides-de-camp were at the
door of the Hall, but simply as to whether he accompanied
M. La Fayette at all. Speaking for myself, I believe this
gentleman was an aide-de-camp on the occasion, and I am
even prepared to assert it definitely, unless he denies the fact
in so many words.
M. Rohan-Chabot. — I do not know if I shall be believed,
but I give my word of honour that I was not.
M. Choudieu. — Then I assure the National Assembly that
I make no assertion to the contrary.
M. Maribon-Montaut. — We know perfectly well who the
gentleman is, and what he was doing here. I therefore beg
to insist upon my first proposal ; namely, that he should be
put under arrest, examined by a magistrate, and sent back
to his section. I would further suggest that his papers
should be sealed. He is sure to be well-informed as to the
plots that were exposed yesterday, and I feel almost ready to
declare with certainty that he has, at his house, papers of the
highest importance. I call upon the Assembly to insist upon
his giving his address before he leaves the bar, and to have
his papers sealed before he is set free.
(The Assembly passed this resolution.)
M. Rohan-Chabot. — I live in the Rue de Seine, in the
house of my brother-in-law, M. La Rochefoucauld.
M. Archiee. — I propose that the citizen should be made
to place upon the table any papers that he may have on him,
to be handed over to the magistrate.
(The Assembly adopted M. Archier's resolution.)
A Member. — I propose, as an amendment, that the papers
in question should be numbered and initialed by the secre-
taries of the Assembly.
(The Assembly adopted this amendment.)
The President. — Sir, you have heard the terms of the
decree.
M. Rohan-Chabot. — Here are two pocket-books. One of
them, the smaller, contains some assignats ; the other contains
various papers. I have nothing else — ^you can search me.
Several Members. — No, no !
M. Archier. — I propose that a paper band should be put
19 c 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
on the pocket-book containing papers, and that the one
containing assignats should be returned to Monsieur.
(The Assembly decreed that the first pocket-book should
be returned to M. Rohan-Chabot, and that the second,
without being opened, should be sealed with the seal of the
Assembly on two paper bands, upon which the Sieur Chabot
and one of the secretaries should write their signatures.
M. Fatichet. — I propose that M. Rohan-Chabot should be
placed under arrest and taken to his section, with a sufficient
guard.
(The Assembly adopted M. Fauchet's resolution.)
M. Haussmann.— I propose that the officer in charge of
M. Rohan-Chabot should be entrusted with the decree
enjoining upon the section to seal up his papers, and that
the committee of the section should supply the legislative body
with a list of the papers enclosed in the pocket-book we
are sending them.
(The Assembly passed M. Haussmann's resolution.)
M. Rohan-Chabot left the Hall, accompanied by the guard.^
M. Grangenedve. — Having been charged by the Assembly
to visit the posts of aU the sentinels round the building,
I have seen them all and found everthing quiet. There are
lights in the garden ; a strict watch is being kept ; and the
Assembly may feel secure as to their own safety and that of
those who have been entrusted to them. (Cheers.)
' He was taken to the Abbaye prison, and died in the massacre of
2nd Sept.
20
THE TEMPLE
(August 13th, 1792 — August 1st, 1793)
The Assembly, howeverj did not really feel secure. They
wished to keep the King imprisonedj but at the same time feared
lest their hostage should be wrested from them, and showed a
feverish anxiety to be delivered from their difficult charge. On
this subject the Legislative Assembly and the Commune of Paris
— ^which, we must not forget, was an insurrectionary and not an
elected body — -engaged in a duel, of which, though a detailed
account of it would be instructive in more ways than one, we
will be content to note only the principal incidents.
On the 10th August the Legislative Assembly had decreed
that, as soon as order was restored, the royal family should be
removed to the Luxembourg, since the Tuileries had been
rendered uninhabitable by the depredations of the mob. On the
morning of the 1 1th August the Commune begged the Assembly
to rescind their decree of the previous day, on the grounds that
the Luxembourg was difficult to guard ; suggested the Temple,
which contained both a sumptuous palace and a deserted tower ;
and cleverly leaving it uncertain which of the two buildings was
to shelter the prisoners, laid great stress upon the advantages to
be derived from the large garden that surrounded the buildings.
The Assembly, tired of the discussion, revoked their decree,
and sent the suggestion of the Commune to the Commission of
Twelve.
An hour later a new deputation from the municipal body
appeared at the bar, offering to lodge the prisoners in the Arch-
bishop's palace. This proposition, like the first, was sent on to
the Commission.
On the following day, the 12th August, it was discovered that
the Episcopal Palace had the same disadvantages as the Luxem-
21
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
bourg : there were underground passages connecting it with the
river^ which might make escape possible. The Assembly forth-
with decreed that the King and his family should be lodged in
the house of the Minister of Justice, in the Place VendomCj
which was to be fitted up with furniture from the Tuileries. But
the Commune still expressed dissatisfaction. The H6tel de la
Chancellerie was a palace, and it was in a prison that one wished
to keep one's enemies. A fresh deputation insisted upon the
revocation of this second decree, and upon the imprisonment of
the royal family in the Temple, " whither they should be con-
ducted with all the respect due to misfortune."
Once more the Assembly obediently yielded : they revoked
their decree, and, tired of the struggle, decided to leave " the
choice of the King's residence and the guarding of his person "
in the hands of the Commune of Paris. In consequence of this,
towards the evening of the 13th August, Louis XVI., Marie
Antoinette, Madame Royale, the Dauphin, and Madame Elizabeth
were removed, under a strong guard, to the Temple. With the
exception of the respect due to misfortune the affair was conducted
in accordance with the decision of the Commune. The Assembly
had triumphed over one master, but had found another and a far
more exacting one !
The topography of the Temple during the revolutionary
period has never been dealt with at all thoroughly. Many
historians have gone into the subject at great length, but unfor-
tunately without taking the trouble to refer to the original
documents.
Beauchesne, for instance, was content to base his book on
Louis XVII. upon a plan of the Precincts of the Temple in 181 1,
which he borrowed from Barillet's Recherches sur le Temple,
changing nothing — except the date ! He put it before his
readers, that is to say, as a plan of the Temple in 1793.
Although the entire subversion of the district makes it difficult
to form a correct plan of the original building, yet perhaps it is
not too late to attempt to throw light on this interesting point in
the topography of Paris. This we have endeavoured to do, by
constructing a plan, house by house, of the surroundings of the
Temple Tower as they existed in 1792, and by following, with
the help of the original documents in the Archives, the various
changes that the Revolution brought about in the general arrange-
ment of the buildings.
22
THE TEMPLE
Let us remember that there were within the Temple Precincts
three groups of buildings destined for very different purposes :
1st : The palace and its offices, devoted until 1789 to the use of .
the Comte d'Artois ; 2ndly, the old Commandery i (court-house,^
chapter-housej priory, cloisters, church, etc.) ; and Srdly, th^
private buildings that had been erected one by one within tlv^
Precincts, and formed a sort of little town, with its gates, its
guard, its own magistrates and its own market. This last group
of houses we have omitted from our plan, as it played no part in
the events of the revolution.
The entrance, the only entrance to the Temple Precincts before
1789, was an enormous archway, set obliquely in a recess in the
Rue du Temple. (Plan A. The surroundings of the Temple in
August, 1792. No. 1.) It is true that in the same street, almost
at the comer of the Rue de la Corderie, there was another door
with a portico (same plan. No. 2), but this only led to the palace
of the Comte d'Artois. The court (3) of this palace was huge,
and the end near the street was in the foi-m of a semicircle. It
was surrounded by a path shaded by trees. Two gates (4) led to
the offices ; namely the Cour des Cuisines (6), from which a covered
passage (7) led into the Temple Precincts ; the Cour du Garde-
Meuble (8) ; and the Cour couverte or covered court (9).
The palace itself was entered by two flights of steps — five steps
in each (10). The usual entrance was in the south wing, where
the rooms of the Comte d'Artois were situated. Near the door
was a wide staircase (11) leading to the first storey; then came
the first ante-room (12), the guards' room. — which is faithfully
represented in OUvier's pretty picture in the Versailles Museum
— (13), and a salon, lighted by six windows overlooking the
garden (14). Between this and the Rue de la Corderie were the
private rooms ; the bedroom of the Comte d'Artois (15), the
Turkish room (I6), the library (17), a dressing-room (18), a bath-
room and its heating apparatus (19 and 20).
It is by the help of the architect BeUange's unpublished
drawings in the Print Room that we have been able to make a
detailed plan of this part of the palace.^
' {I.e. the Manor belonging to the Knights Templars. — Translator's
note).
2 It was in these rooms that it was at first intended to lodge the royal
family. On the 13th August the Commune were not agreed on the
subject : " The discussion opened, and several members combated the
proposition that the King should be confined in the Temple Palace rather
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
The central portion of the building contained a billiard-room
(21), a large salon (22), and a reception room (23), which was
doubtless the room represented in OHvier's picture in the Louvre :
Vn the chez la princesse de Conti, an Temple. The left, or north
wing, finally, comprised two salons (24 and 35) and the room of
the Comte d'Artois' first valet-de-chamhre (26). A flight of stairs
(28) led from the large salon to the garden. Another flight of
steps led from the terrace outside the prince's private rooms (29)
to a small private garden. A courtyard and some ofiices (30 and
31) completed the palace proper.
If we now return to the great gateway and enter the Precincts,
the first thing we see on the right will be a mass of confused
buildings forming the Court of the Indemnity (32), the word Court
being used in its Parisian sense of a district or close. A passage,
covered at both ends (33) separated these buildings from the
offices of the palace, and was called the Passage of the Indemnity.
Its eastern extremity led into the Stables (6 1), while towards the
west it ended in the Court of the Little Fortress (34). On the
left of the main entrance (1) was the house of the gatekeeper of
the Precincts (35), and close beside it stood that of the beadle of
the church (36).
The figures 37 show the positions of two sentry boxes. The
Temple Precincts had, as we have said, their own court of justice ;
they had also, therefore, their own prison (38), and close beside
it a chapel reserved for the prisoners. It was reached by a sort
of cul-de-sac (39).
The centre of the Great Court of the Precincts (40) was
obstructed by a group of barracks, which remained standing long
after the period of the Revolution. Behind these barracks was
a covered way (53) leading to the old Commandery. Another
passage, a long one (41), burrowed under the conventual
buildings, behiad which was an alley called the Petite Rue (56),
leading, like the Rue Haute (55), to the Cour du Chameau (58),
where stood the remains of an old tower known as the Tour de
Cesar (57). For the other buildings in the Precincts we refer the
reader to the little plan on p. 25.
The Commandery, as we have said, was reached by a covered
passage (53). To right and left were two fragments of the
than in the Tower ; when the discussion closed it was decreed that the
resolution naming the Tower should be adhered to." {Minutes of the
Commune of Pans, 13th Aug.)
24
GENERAL PLAN OP THE TEMPLE PRBOINCTS IN 1792.
The enclosure of the Temple, of which at the end of the eighteenth
century the original form was still unchanged, was a huge demesne
covering about 125 hectares. The territory was enclosed by walls, and
was so enormous that the dependants of the Grand Priory could not make
use of the whole of it. Permission was therefore given for the building of
houses for artisans, who by living in this privileged enclosure were able to
evade the rules and regulations of their corporations. Then, one by one,
private houses were erected, and the enclosure became a veritable town,
whose inhabitants, in 1789, numbered 4,000 (Mercier, Tableau de Paris).
The accompanying plan will suflSce to give an idea of this strange
agglomeration at the beginning of the Revolution.
1 Gateway of the Temple. — 2 Old building of the Commandery. —
3 Buildings erected about 1750 and known as the new buildings. — 4 The
Baths, formerly called the H6tel Poirier. — 5 H6tel de Boisboudran.^
6 Hotel de Guise. — 7 H6tel de Boufflers, and its fine English garden. —
8 Treasury of the Grand Priory. — 9 Cour de la Corderie (this court and
part of the Treasury are still in esEJstenoe). — 10 Rue de la Rotonde. —
11 The Rotunda. — 12 Caesar's Tower.^^13 Remains of a Roman building.
— 14 Cour dn Lion d'Or. — 15 Cour du Chameau and alley of the same
name. — 16 Rue Haute. — 17 A little street. — 18 Barracks. — 19 H6tel du
Bel- Air. — 20 Remains of the Cloisters. — 21 The Prior's house. — 22 Church.
— 23 Cemetery. — 24 Chapter House. — 25 H6tel de Bostaing. — 26 Bailliage.
— 27 Palace of the Grand Prior. — 28 Public Garden. — 29 Slaughter-house.
—30 Kitchen of the Palace.— 31 Stables.— 34 and 35 Fountains.
'25
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
ancient cloisters (42) forming a right angle^ and bordering the
court that suiTounded the Church (54). The church itself com-
prised a porch (43), a rotunda (44), the nave, or main body of the
building (45), the Chapel of the Holy Name of Jesus (46), the
Chapel of Notre Dame de Lorette (47), a bell-tower (48), the
Chapel of Saint Pantal6on (49), and a sacristy (51) opening into
the little yard (50). The plan of this church has been very
skilfully traced out by M. de Curzon in L,a Maison du Temple
de Paris, so we will say no more on the subject.
Suffice it to say that the Temple Church was closed in 1791j
but remained standing throughout the time that Louis XVI. and
his family were imprisoned in the neighbouring Tower. The
State did not take possession of it till the 19th August, 1796. It
was bought for 187,500 livres in paper money, or 4,008 francs in
gold, by a man called Carlet who lived in the Precincts and had
formerly been a wig-maker. He pulled down the church and
sold the materials.
The Cemetery of the Precincts (52) was beyond the east end of
the church. The house of the vicar-prior was quite near to it (60).
The Comte d'Artois, in the character of Grand Prior, had
added the offices of the old Commandery to the outbuildings of
his own palace, and had made them into stables (62), for which
reason the yard that they surrounded was called the Stable
Court (6l). They were all insignificant buildings, or sheds, and
may be seen on p. 25. This sketch was actually taken in the
Stable Court, the artist being seated at the point marked A in
plan A.
A passage (63) led from the court surrounding the church (54)
to the public gardens of the Temple (83). The archway that
undermined the gallery (77) — to which we will return later — was
at a lower level than the rest of the passage, and after passing
through it, it was necessary to climb a few steps to the level of
the garden, a resort very popular with the people of the neigh-
bourhood (83).
The Bailiff's house (65), the court-house in which he presided
(64), the H6tel de Rostaing (67), and the quarters of the petty
officials connected with the church (68), surrounded the Cour du
Baillage, which was approached by a covered passage (66).
A carriage-entrance (69) led into the Court of the Chapter-
house (70), round which were grouped the Hotel de Vernicourt
(78), and the buildings belonging to the Chapter (7l), whose
26
THE TEMPLE
backs were towards the little Tower, which contained, on its
ground floor, a chapel (74) and a room (75). Between the Court
of the Chapter-house and the great Tower (76) was the Court of
the Dungeon (73), which was approached by a covered passage
(72). The great Tower communicated directly with the palace
by means of a narrow covered passage (77) with an elbow in it
at the spot where it passed above the public entrance to the
garden (63).
In 1787 an enormous structure called the Temple Rotunda had
been built to serve as a market place, and this had somewhat
altered the appearance of the Precincts. Near this rotunda, in
an angle formed by the garden-walls of the H6tel Vemicourt
(79) a public fountain had been raised (80); and in 1789, the
means of access to the new market-place had been simplified by
the cutting of a door (81 ) in the walls of the Precincts ; and this
also enabled the inhabitants of the district to enter the garden
by a second gate (82).
The plans of the Manor of the Temple as it was in 1789, and
various topographical drawings preserved ia the National
Archives, furnished us with the details of the above survey,
details that may to some seem too minute, but that will by no
means be without interest to those who wish to follow the various
accounts of the events that took place in the Temple between
the 13th August, 1792, and the 9th June, 1795.
When Louis XVI.'s family were first immured there the sur-
roundings of the Temple were as we have just described them
(plan A). The carriage in which the prisoners were conveyed
from the Riding School of the TuUeries to the Temple passed
through the gateway (2), and drew up in the middle of the
palace court (3), which was ablaze with lights. As the rooms in
the Tower were not yet prepared for the reception of guests, the
royal family remained for a few hours in the palace, where the
Commune entertained them at a grand dinner arranged in the
large salon (22). As the Dauphin was so sleepy that he could
hardly stand, a member of the Commune took him in his arms
and carried him through the rooms (23-24-25) and the covered
way (77) to the Tower ; which explains why it was that Madame
de Tourzel, who no doubt was in the Temple for the first time
and did not know the gallery in question, spoke afterwards of
tortuous and gloomy subterranean passages.
The Great Tower (76) in which the Commune had determined
27
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
to confine the prisoners was in such a state of dilapidation that
Louis XVI. and his family were temporarily lodged in the little
Tower (74 and 75), whose rooms were hastily made ready with
furniture from the Tuileries. Louis XVI. was not transferred to
the Great Tower till the 30th September ; and it was not tiU the
26th October that Marie Antoinette, with her children and
Madame Elizabeth, joined him there.
Great changes, involving much labour, took place in the
interval, with the object, not only of making the interior of the
Tower more suitable for its purpose, but also of isolating it in
such a way that it might be easily guarded. Any guard would
have been useless had the prison remained enclosed as it is
depicted in plan A, in a mass of buildings inhabited by private
individuals. In order that all attempts at escape might be
nipped in the bud it was necessary to isolate the building
absolutely, and the work of doing this was begun on the 15th
August, 1792. Patriot Palloy was entrusted with the undertak-
ing,! and lost no time in starting operations. The buildings
numbered 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 71, 72, 78, in plan A, were taken
down in a few days, — (there is a plan of the demolished houses
in the National Archives) — and their place filled by a sort of
square, surrounded by a high wall, which was supported by
numerous buttresses on the inner side. (See plan B.) Outside
this new enclosure the public passage leading to the garden was
left as it was (plan B, 63) ; and near this passage a guard-house
was placed, in the old buildings of the BaUlage. (See the
drawing facing p. 94.) Palloy's wall had only one door, open-
ing into the Temple Garden and facing the south front of the
Great Tower ; and at this door a guard-house was placed without
delay. But soon, with a view to communicating more easily
with the outside world, another door was made in the wall on the
western side of the square, facing the palace steps ; and here a
second guard-house was established, and a man named Mancel,
formerly a servant of the Comte D'Artois, placed in it in the
capacity of turnkey.
It was while these alterations were being carried out that one
of the National Guards on duty at the Temple took the interest-
ing sketch facing page 124. This National Guard was called
Le Queux, and was by profession an architect. In the fore-
ground of his picture he placed the whole family of Louis XVI.
1 Minutes of the Oommuneof Paris; sittings of the 11th and 13th
August, 1792.
28
PLAN A.
THE SURROUNDINGS OF THE TEMPLE TOWER IN AUGUST, 1792, ACCORDING TO UNPUBLISHED
DOCUMENTS.
29
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
taking their daily walk, and took the trouble to add the note
that may still be read at the foot of the drawing, on the left : /
saw them there.
As for the curious sketch reproduced between pp. 122 and 123
it was drawn from nature with the most careful accuracy in the
autumn of 1793. We see the Dauphin walking about in charge of
Simon, who is wearing the bonnet rouge. This drawing, which has
never been published before, is among the valuable relics of the
royal family collected by M. Otto Friedrichs. We here express our
gratitude to him for his kindness in authorising us to publish it.
In addition to the sentinels posted on the ground floor of the
two towers, there was the main guard in the Temple Palace.
This consisted of an officer in command, a chef de l^gioti, a sotis-
adjutant-major, a colour-bearer, twenty gunners — with guns
mounted in the court of the palace — and between two hundred
and two hundred and fifty men.
A man called Gachet, who had formerly been the gate-keeper
of the palace, had opened a canteen for the National Guards in
his lodge. (Plan B, 5.)
The kitchen (6), formerly devoted to the use of the palace,
still supplied the tables of all who were employed on the
premises, all the municipal officers and guards, as well as the
family of Louis XVI. Gagni6 was the head of this department,
and had under his orders Meunier — who kept a cook-shop —
Marchand, Turgy, Chretien, and others. We shall find all these
names in the narratives we are about to read.
These domestics lived in the outbuildings of the palace (30
and 31). One can easily understand that so large a population
entailed constant communication between the Temple and the
town. It is true that the Tower, isolated behind Palloy's wall,
was cut off entirely from the outer world ; but it was otherwise
with the palace, teeming as it was with a multitude of servants
and officials, and soldiers who were also citizens, all of whom had
interests and business beyond the Precincts.
It therefore became the custom to leave the palace, not by the
main entrance (2) where it was necessary to show a ticket, but
by a circuitous way. On the SOth Prairial, year II., various
people were formally accused before the Council of leaving the
Temple by the door near the stables ; and it was stated that " to
enter by this door it was only necessary to knock with a piece of
sandstone kept for the purpose on one of the projecting hinges
of the door, on the left, at the sound of which Citizen Piquet, the
PLAN B.
THE SUKBOtTNDINGS OP THE TEMPLE TOWER IN JANUAKY, 1793, ACCORDING TO UNPUBLISHED
DOCUMENTS.
31
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
porter^ came at once to answer the summons. And the Members
of the Council observed it to be perfectly true that there was a
door on the left opening into the Temple PrecinctSj through
which the mother or mother-in-law of Citizen Gagni6, as well as
Simon's wife ^ and other persons residing in the same vicinity
were allowed to pass." (See Plan B, 7.)
A mere glance at Plan B wiU suffice to show that it was easy
to drive into the court of the palace (3), but impossible to go any
further except on foot. It follows that all the modern stories
that represent Louis XVI. as driving from the foot of the Tower
either to the Convention or to the scaffijld^ are incorrect in this
particular. The mistake would not have been made if the authors
of the stories in question had read the contemporary narratives
with the help of an accurate plan.
Every one who left the Tower was obliged to walk across the
square enclosed by Palloy's wall, and through the Temple Garden
and the rooms of the palace, and could only get into a carriage
at the steps (10). Moelle, an eye-witness, relates that on the
26th December, 1792, Louis XVI., on his return from the Con-
vention, left the carriage at the door of the principal Pavilion
(the palace) and walked, with the Mayor on his right hand, from
the Pavilion to the Tower.
A few days later Goret, who escorted Malesherbes when he
came to tell Louis XVI. the news of his condemnation, says :
" We crossed the great Court to the gate of the Temple, where
his carriage was waiting for him."
Thus it was on the 21st January. The prisoner left Palloy's
enclosure by the first guard-house — (we believe, though we
cannot positively assert, that the second guard-house had not
yet been built at this time) — turned to the right, crossed the
greater part of the Temple Garden — (we know that he twice
turned to look at the Tower, which he could not have done
if he had driven away from the very door of the prison) —
ascended the steps (28), and by way of the rooms (22, 21, 12)
occupied by the guard, reached the great court of the palace,
where the Mayor's carriage awaited him.
It is unnecessaiy to go into further details. This example
vidll serve to show that the accompanying plans may assist very
effectually in the study of the various authentic accounts of the
imprisonment of Louis XVI. 's family.
' Simon's wife can only have come here at this time as a visitor. She
had given up her oflSoial position at the Temple in January, 1794
32,
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
COMMISSIONER OF THB COMMUNE
(August, 1792— October, 1793)
The following valuable document^ now for the first time
published in its entirety, is preserved in M. Victorien Sardou's
collection of autographs.
In the library of Saint-Germain-en-Laye there is a collection
of unconnected documents bound together in one volume, with
the title : Louis XVI.' s Defence : the Queen s copy. It is so called,
no doubt, because the first of these documents is a printed copy
of de Size's defence of the King before the Convention, and
bears the words Opportet unum mori pro populo, in Marie
Antoinette's handwriting. This pamphlet was given to her in
the Temple.
This volume also contains a written copy, obviously modern,
of an Account of all that took place in the Temple during the 'S.nd
and 3rd September, 1792, by a municipal officer of the Commune.
According to M. Georges Bertin this copy was written by
M. A. T. Barbier, once the Secretary of the Imperial Libraries,
who died in Paris on the 7th November, 1859. It was he who
presented this book to the library of Saint-Germain.
Now, who was the municipal officer who wrote this narrative ?
Danjou they say. This, at least, is the opinion of Beauchesne,
who quotes a portion of it ; of the editors of the Revue Retrospec-
tive, who published extracts from it ; and of M. Georges Bertin
himself, who went fully into it afresh in his book on Madame de
Lamballe.
There was, it is true, on the General Council of the Commune,
a certain Jean Pierre Andr6 Danjou, a schoolmaster and un-
frocked priest, living in the Rue de Coq-Saint-Jean (see the
Nat'jnal Almanach for the year 1793)- Hie sat among the most
33 D
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
fanatical members of the municipal body, and we shall presently
see the terms in which his colleague Goret spoke of him.
Well, although the manuscript is unsigned, it is proved by
the internal evidence of the narrative itself that its author was
not Danjou, but the municipal officer, Daujon. The confusion
arose, no doubt, from the similarity of the names, but the
mistake would never have been made if Beauchesne, who was
the first to publish a few pages of the story, had studied
the manuscript in its entirety and had closely examined its
contents. It is Danjou, then, who is praised by every historian
for the courage with which the perpetrators of the Septem-
ber Massacres, on arriving at the Temple with the remains of
Madame de Lamballe, were repulsed by the municipal officers
on duty. But the man who, for more than an hour, restrained
this horde of maniacs, was none other than Daujon ; and the
following note by Goret, the municipal officer, leaves no possible
doubt on the subject.
"The news came that the Princesse de Lamballe had just
fallen a victim, and that some madmen were on thei^ way to the
Temple carrying the Princess's head at the end of a pike. The
Council shuddered, but were silent. One of their members, an
artist called Daujon, was at the Temple, and saw this frantic mob
approaching. He went to meet them, but could not prevent
them from approaching the building beside the Tower, where
the King and his family were confined. The windows of this
building were not barred, and were only fifteen or sixteen feet
above the ground. The crowd were shouting at the top of their
voices Daujon, wearing his scarf, quickly jumped upon a
heap of stones that happened to be below the window, and
began to harangue the crowd in such a way that he managed to
restrain them Daujon followed them to the door leading
out of the Temple, and — having hastily procured a tricoloured
ribbon — he hung it, as soon as they had passed through, before
the door of the Temple, which he left open. " Cross that barrier
if you dare ! " he said to the retreating mob.
"When Daujon next went on duty as the King's warder,
the latter said to him: 'You saved our lives, and we thank
you. You said nothing more than was necessary in such
circumstances.'
" .... I heard this story from Daujon himself. I believe
Cl^ry speaks of Daujon in his History of the Temple, but in such
34
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
temis that he appears not to be a partisan of the King, or at
least not to care for him "
If any further proof were required to establish the. true
authorship of the Account of the 2nd and 3rd September, wrongly
attributed to Danjou, we might find it in this passage from the
MS. itself:
" I heard this son accuse his mother and his aunt .... I
heard it, / wrote it "
This refers to the Dauphin and the horrible deposition wrung
from the child by Hubert. Now on that occasion the registrar's
pen was in the hand of Daujon ; it was he who recorded the
answers of Marie Antoinette's son ; it was he who signed the
report of that hateful inquiry. Goret indeed is very explicit on
this point. He adds :
" It was this same Daujon who was acting as secretary when
the young prince was subjected, in the Temple, to an examina-
tion on the subject of the slanderous and infamous statements that
had been circulated with regard to the Queen. Here, word for
word, is what Daujon told me on the subject of that examination,
and I may say that I considered him a man worthy of belief.
"The young prince," he told me, " was seated in an armchair,
swinging his little legs ; for his feet did not reach the ground.
'He was examined as to the statements in question, and was
asked if they were true : he answered in the affirmative.
Instantly Madame Elizabeth, who was present, cried out, ' Oh,
the monster ! ' — 'As for me,' added Daujon, 'I could not regard
this answer as coming from the child himself, for his air of
uneasiness and his general bearing inclined me to believe that
it was a suggestion emanating from some one else, — the effect
of his fear of punishment or ill treatment, with which he may
have been threatened if he failed to comply. I fancy that
Madame Elizabeth cannot really have been deceived either, but
that her surprise at the child's answer wrung that exclamation
from her.' "
And what sort of man was this Daujon who lent himself to
such repulsive tasks .'' In the General List of Commissioners from
the Forty-eight Sections who composed the General Council of the
Commune of the 10th August he is mentioned, without any
reference to his profession, as living at No. 40 in the Faubourg
Saint Martin. Goret, who seems to have known him fairly
intimately, describes him as a painter j though further on, it
35 D 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
is true, he speaks of his talent as a sculptor. It is thus, too,
that the General Dictionary of French Artists describes him ; and
as a matter of fact Daujon's work was not without merit.
There is a Head of Medusa by him in the Louvre, a bas-relief
in bronze.
"Daujon" — to accept Goret's evidence once more — "was
a man of extraordinary energy ; but I never saw him," he adds,
•^'show any inclination for the iniquitous deeds that were so
common during the stormy times of the Revolution ; on the
contrary, he was merely what was then called an ardent patriot,
without any feelings of hatred or revenge ; and I knew him well
enough to have perfect confidence in the statements he made to
me with regard to certain events that I did not see myself. . . .
" Daujon died several years ago,^ after having for some time
filled the office — under Bonaparte, whom he did not like, — of
national commissioner in the municipality of Paris. He told
me that, being a sculptor, he had some knowledge of physiog-
nomy, and that he observed in Bonaparte's features the
characteristics of a despotic tyrant. Daujon, who was no
longer a member of the General Council, escaped on the 9th
Thermidor. At that time he was in prison as a ' suspect,'
having been sent thither by Robespierre ; which is not sur-
prising, for that monster feared every man who showed any
energy and did not bend beneath his yoke."
Energetic, a revolutionary by conviction, hating tyranny
deeply, but neither wicked nor cruel : such is the man whom
we shall see depicted in the following pages. We have copied
them word for word from Daujon's original MS., which M.
Victorien Sardou was kind enough to place at our disposal.
We beg him to accept our respectful gratitude.
The Narrative of Daujon
If there be one thing more than another calculated to
increase our scepticism with regard to any story tinged with
the marvellous, it is the obvious discrepancy that exists
between different contemporary accounts of events actually
witnessed by the narrators; events in which we ourselves
were actors, and yet should not recognise if the scene were
placed elsewhere and the names of the persons concerned
were changed. We are all secretly inclined to emphasise
' Goret wrote these words in 1814.
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
the dark side of a story or to show the bright side in the
best light, according to the special bearing of the events
upon our own life and standpoint, and according to the
sentiments that affect us individually, and that we therefore
desire to affect others. Every story-teller believes himself to
be one of the heroes of the events he records, and is there-
fore interested in making the most of it : he invests the
subject with the charm of his particular genius, and
according to the nature of his own inspiration creates a
monster — or an angel.
Creations such as these, the chimerical offspring of vanity
or self-interest, are often laid before the student as true
pictures of human action. They are seized by ready
credulity, propagated by greed, and accepted forthwith by
history.
The place called the Temple, to which Capet and his
family were taken as prisoners on the 16th August, 1792,
is an unprepossessing building in Paris, situated in the Rue
du Temple and near the boulevard of the same name. In
the middle of the garden there is a very high tower, very
solid, and flanked by four turrets, in one of which is a little
spiral staircase that leads to the upper part of the tower.
The walls of the Great Tower are about seven feet thick,
which gives the embrasures of the windows the appearance
of little rooms. TTiese windows were afterwards darkened by
screens on the outside, so that no light entered except from
the top, and it was impossible to see anything but the sky.
At the time of which I am about to speak certain external
alterations were being made for the sake of greater security ;
such as the demolition of some houses near the Tower ; the
digging of a fosse to isolate it — but this scheme was never
carried out ; the placing of several doors upon the staircase ;
and various changes in the interior arrangements for the
prisoners' accommodation : and this increased the vigilance
of the Council of the Temple, which must not be confused
with the General Council of the Commune. The latter,
which was especially charged with the custody of the
prisoners, delegated the actual guardianship of the latter
to eight members chosen from among themselves, who
37
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
were renewed, four at a time, according to the following
system.
Every evening the General Council chose ^ four commis-
sioners to relieve the four who had been longest on duty.^
Each man was on duty for forty-eight consecutive hours.
During the day there were always two with the prisoners ;
the six others, who remained on the ground floor and were
responsible for the efficiency of the whole guard, composed
the Council of the Temple. They gave orders to the soldiers
on the premises, decided on any step that seemed good to
them, and informed the General Council of their intentions
whenever they thought the matter so important that they
ought, to secure the Council's approval before taking action.
During the night the work was divided as follows.
The four fresh commissioners drew lots among themselves
as to which should be the two to spend the night with the
prisoners, together with two of the four men already on duty,
chosen by lot the evening before. And as the prisoners were
separated during the night these four again drew lots among
themselves to decide who was to be with Capet and who with
the women and children. Those who were to be with him
remained in his room, for it was there that they all sat
together during the day. The others took the women and
children to their rooms and stayed with them. The relieved
commissioners, after handing over the orders to the others,
locked not only all the doors of the rooms, but also the seven
doors on the staircase of the tower. The keys of all these,
as well as those of the great outer door, were deposited in
1 Afterwards they were chosen by drawing lots. (Note by Daujon.)
' It was so unpleasant being on duty in the Temple, and the responsi-
bility was so great that members fled from the Council Room when they
saw the urn being brought in which led to the issue of an order enjoining
upon the commandant of the guard of the Commune to bring to the Temple
by force any of the members chosen by lot who had not arrived there by
nine in the evening at latest. Several of them were taken to the Temple
in this way. This order is a sufficient answer to the calumnies directed
against the Council to the effect that the members wrangled in their
eagerness to go to the Temple, on account of the good cheer. At first the
food was so unwholesome that one always suffered from colic after it ; it
was not till several months later that it was the same as the prisoners'
food ; and moreover, it was at this time that the order was issued. (Note
hy Daujon.)
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
the Council Room in a cupboard cut in the masonry of the
wall. The oldest of the commissioners kept the key.
The commissioners slept on folding beds set up in the
Council Room and in the prisoners' ante-room. This arrange-
ment lasted till about the time of Capet's death, and as long
as the prisoners had valets to wait on them. Afterwards
they slept alone ; that is to say they were no longer watched
at night. In their rooms there were beUs that rang in the
Comicil Room, and the commissioners never failed, night or
day, to attend the summons if the bells were rung.
No one was allowed to visit the prisoners without producing
a decree issued by the Assembly or the National Convention ;
or an order from the Committee of Surveillance, the Com-
mittee of Public Safety, the Committee of General Security,
or the General Council of the Commmie. This rule was
very rarely broken — only now and then in the case of the
chief magistrates of the Commune, and then only in the
presence of the commissioners on duty, who were personally
responsible.
The National Guard was alone allowed to serve in the
Temple. There were only a few mounted orderlies on duty
outside.
When the prisoners went to their meals one of their valets
de chambre unfolded the napkins, broke open the rolls, and
tasted every dish before they ate any of it themselves. This
was done in the presence of the commissioners, with the
object of preventing any correspondence on the one side
or any foul play on the other. Later on the dishes were
tasted in the kitchen by the cook, always in the presence of
the commissioners, and accompanied by the latter to the
prisoners' table. The same routine was followed in the case
of medicines, which, after being tasted by the apothecary,
were sealed by him with his own seal and delivered thus to
the prisoners.
Every kind of article that came in or went out, whatever
its nature, — book, linen, or other garment, — was examined
very carefully. The prisoners were not allowed the indul-
gence of paper, ink, or pencils.
On the 2nd September, 1792, I was with Capet at one of
39
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
the windows of his room,^ watching the demolition of a
house not far from the Tower. He called my attention to
the pieces of stone and wood that were on the point of
falling; and as each piece fell he broke out into a roar
of the hearty laughter that indicates simple, good-humoured
enjoyment. His pleasure was brief. The loud report of
a gun checked it; a second report quenched it; a third
replaced it with terror. It was the alarm-gun.
Their ignorance of the events that led to the adoption of
this unusual measure, the sound of the tocsin and drums, the
clamour and songs of the labourers leaving their work to take
their share in the common danger, and no doubt too, the voice
of a guilty conscience, all combined to give apparent justifi-
cation to the alarm of the prisoners. Capet asked us if he
were in any danger. We did not know ; but we told him that
if any danger were to arise it was our duty to see that it was
removed, and that therefore we should not calmly submit to
it whatever happened. Our confidence seemed to reassure
him.
A moment later Manuel, the procureur of the Commune,
came to ask for news of the prisoners. I brought him into
the room, and Capet asked him what had occurred. " Verdun
is taken and Longwy is blockaded." "And what is the
National Assembly doing ? " " They have just decided that
Verdun is to be razed to the ground." Louis, with a gesture
of surprise, said smilingly : " That is a great stroke of poli-
tics, and rather a bold one, but the example may restrain
other towns." Manuel added that the General Council of
the Commune had just decreed that the tocsin should be
instantly rung, the alarm-gun fired, and the call to arms
beaten, as a means of summoning every citizen to fly to the
defence of the frontiers and prevent the enemy from reaching
Paris. Capet smiled and answered that there was no danger ;
for the enemy had established no means of obtaining supplies
^ I said above that the windows were darkened by screens. To
explain this apparent contradiction I must mention that at the time of
which I speak the rooms to which they were removed, the rooms with the
screens, were being repaired. At this time the prisoners were on the first
floor of a kind of building that adjoined the Tower, but was not really an
essential part of it, so to speak. (Note by Daujon. )
40
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
suitable for such a purpose, and would find the retreat a much
harder matter than the invasion, etc., etc. It was about two
o'clock ; the new guard came in ; Manuel left us, and we went
down to the Council Room.
Between four and five o'clock two commissioners presented
themselves before the Council, bearing an Order conceived in
these terms :
" It is decreed by the General Council that the man Hue,
Capet's vaht de chambre, shall be forthwith arrested and.
removed to the Conciergerie : the commissioners M.^ and —
are charged with the execution of this decree."
Hue was in the Tower. Capet and his family were walking
in the garden, accompanied by two commissioners and the
chiefs of the Staff of the National Guard on duty. Every day
after dinner the Council permitted them to do this, unless
there appeared to be some reason against it, which rarely
happened.
As it devolved upon me to inform the prisoners of the com-
missioners' purpose, I summoned them upstairs. When they
were in their own room the decree of the General Council was
read aloud to them. Capet complained bitterly of this severe
measure, saying that the legislative body would be far from
approving of it if they knew of it. The women far surpassed
him in acrimony ; especially Elizabeth, who strode up and
down the room, giving vent to her anger in a loud voice, and
darting menacing glances at us all.^ Marie Antoinette
seemed deeply affected by this separation. " It was plain,"
she said, "that the object was to part them from all the
people who were most attached to them, and in whom they
had placed their confidence," etc.^
^ Mathieu, ex-capuchin. (See the Journal de GUry. )
^ 1 always observed in her a great deal of a very deliberate and
consistent kind of pride that seemed to have neither end nor object,
that was roused without cause and that nothing could conciliate. A
good many people, and perhaps she herself, took it for dignity. (Note
hy Daujon. )
' I do not know to what degree the prisoners confided in this valet
de chambre, but I was extremely surprised at the civility and kindness
— at the little attentions even — shown him by Mary Antoinette. They
never had anything especially nice to eat without sharing it with M. Hue.
"You like this: I have kept some for you," they would say. Absent
or present, he was in their thoughts. " He takes so much trouble. He
41
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
In the meantime one of the commissioners charged with
executing the decree of the General Council seemed to be
listening very impatiently to the complaints of the prisoners.
Addressing himself to Capet, he said in a very loud voice : —
" The alarm-gun has been fired, the tocsin is ringing, and the
call to arms is still being beaten ; the enemy is at our doors ;
they are asking for blood ; they are demanding heads. Well,
it virill be yours that they take first ! "
At these words a cry broke from them all. " Save my hus-
band ! Have pity on my brother ! " said the women, running
up to us. The girl, as was natural at her age, appeared
sensitive and timid ; the son alone showed much more surprise
than emotion.^
Capet's physical condition really inspired the pity that his
sister was invoking on his behalf ; — not the natural emotion
that misfortune excites so inevitably and wrings from one's
heart whether one will or no, but the kind of pity that one
yields to the distressed for the sake of one's own self-respect.
Pale and trembling, with his eyes swollen with tears, he seemed
touched by nothing but concern for his own safety. Far from
remembering that he had been a King, he forgot that he was
a man ; he had all the cowardice of a disarmed tyrant, and all
the servility of a convicted criminal. I put an end to this
exhibition of baseness on one side and vanity on the other by
begging the commissioner to confine himself to the object of
his mission. He went off with the valet de chambre^ and I
is so obliging ! " I think the Queen would have waited on him if she
had dared. (Note by Daujon.)
^ Elsewhere I shall have some remarks to make on the subject of this
child. Here I will merely describe, without comment, an incident that
made me observe him a little more closely than before.
One day I was having a little game of bowls with him : (it was
after his father's death, and he was separated from his mother and aunt by
order of the Committee of Public Safety). The room we were in was beneath
one of those occupied by his family, and we heard sounds as though
someone were jumping and dragging chairs about, which made a con-
siderable amount of noise over our heads. The child said, with an
impatient gesture : " Are not those sacr^es p s guillotined yet ? " Not
caring to hear any more, I left oflf playing audjwent away. {Note by
Daujon. )
2 I cannot help observing that it was probably to the vanity of the
commissioner that this vcUet de chambre owed his life. The order was
that he was to be taken to the Conciergerie. His office was enough to
doom him to the fate of the rest. But the man entrusted with the arrest
42
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
left the room to escape the gratitude ^ that I saw the pri-
soners were preparing to express. I returned to the Council
Room meditating on the strange fate that had made me the
mediator between a powerful monarch and a wretched
capuchin.
On the following day, the 3rd September, we learnt that
there had been a riot in the prisons. Shortly afterwards we
heard that some people connected with the Court had been
massacred.
Finally, at about one o'clock we were informed of the death
of the Princesse de Lamballe, whose head, it was said, was
being brought to the Temple, that Marie Antoinette might
be made to kiss it. Afterwards they were both to be dragged
through the streets of Paris.
In the name of the Council of the Temple I wrote both to
the General Council of the Commune and to the president of
the Legislative Assembly, to inform them of the danger
threatening the hostages confided to our care. We begged
each of these two bodies to send us six commissioners chosen
from those of their own members who were most popular with
— he was an ex-oapuchin — ^took him to the General Council of the Commune,
boasted of his own behaviour, repeated his harangue, and produced his
prisoner. The Council, having questioned the latter, appeared satisfied
with his answers and ordered him merely to be confined in the gaol,
a kind of lock-up connected with the Commune, where he was kept only a
short time. This saved him.
It is possible that both the Commissioners and the Council already had
misgivings with regard to the prisons. [Note hy Daujon. )
^ On this occasion I succeeded in escaping the prisoners' expressions of
gratitude ; but about a month later, on my return from the country —
whither I had gone on a mission from the provincial executive power — I
was again on duty in the Temple, and the moment the prisoners saw me
they said countless kind things to me. "In whatever circumstances fate
may place me," said Capet, " I shall never forget how you risked your
life to save ours. At present I can do nothing," he added ; " but I have
been longing to satisfy my heartfelt desire to assure you of our
gratitude. "
I answered that any of my colleagues would have done as much as I,
with no object but to do their duty. ' ' You have been deceived as to the
character of true patriots ; it is thus that they answer their detractors. "
These last words seemed to impress him deeply. He slowly turned his
head, and looked at his wife with an expression of some feeling, as though
consulting her. They seemed to be ashamed of being beaten in generosity
by men whom they generally regarded as cannibals.
I turned away, so as not to add to the painfulness of their position.
(Note hy Daujon.)
4-3
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
the mob, assuring them, in any event, of our entire devotion
to our duty.
In the meantime a mounted orderly, despatched to recon-
noitre, informed us that an immense crowd was approaching
the Temple, carrying the Lamballe's head and dragging her
body with them ; that they were demanding Marie Antoinette,
and that in less than five minutes they would reach the Temple.
Two commissioners were instantly despatched to meet them,
to find out their intentions, and to fraternise with them
ostensibly if circumstances demanded it. Above all they
were to secure the man who was carrying the head, for it
was certain that he would lead the mob, and if he could be
guided according to our wishes the crowd would be more
easily restrained.
Two other commissioners were despatched into the neigh-
bouring districts, to impress upon those who seemed most
excited that if they were to commit so abominable and use-
less a crime, Paris could never be cleansed from the stain of
it. These commissioners were reinforced by several good
citizens, who promised us to employ every effort to bring the
most obstinate to reason.
The clamour increased, and our difficulties with it. The
officer on duty asked us for orders, adding that he had four
hundred well-armed men for whom he could answer, but that
he would take no responsibility. We told him that our
intention was to employ force only as a last resource for the
protection of life; that it was our duty first to make use
of persuasion ; and that his business, therefore, was to see to
the security of his arms, etc. He made his arrangements
accordingly.
In the street the throng was already prodigious. We had
both sides of the great gate opened, in order that those out-
side might be pacified by seeing our peaceable intentions, of
which further evidence was supplied by a portion of the
National Guard, who stood unarmed in a double line from
the outside entrance to the inner door. None the less, all
the arms, doors, and passages were well guarded in case of a
surprise.
We heard prolonged and violent shouting, and then at last
THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE.
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
they came ! A tricoloured sash, hastily hung in front of the
main entrance, was the only rampart that the magistrate con-
sented to raise in opposition to the torrent, which seemed
really uncontrollable. A chair was placed behind the tri-
colour ; I climbed upon it, and waited. Soon the bloodthirsty
horde appeared.
At the sight of the honoured symbol the murderous frenzy
in the heart of these men, drunk with blood and wine, seemed
to yield to a feeling of respect for the national badge.
Everyone tried with all his strength to prevent the violation
of the sacred barrier ; to touch it would have seemed to
them a crime. They were anxious to appear right-minded,
and actually believed themselves to be so ; for public opinion,
which constitutes the moral law of the people, has an
unbounded influence over such men as these, who bow down
before it even while they are outraging it.
Two men were dragging along a naked, headless corpse by
the legs. The back was on the ground ; in front the body
was ripped open from end to end. They came to a standstill
before my tottering rostrum, at the foot of which they laid
out this corpse in state, arranging the limbs with great par-
ticularity, and with a degree of cold-blooded callousness that
might give a thoughtful man food for much meditation.
On my right, at the end of a pike, was a head that
frequently touched my face, owing to the gesticulations of
the man that carried it. On my left a still more horrible
wretch was with one hand holding the entrails of the victim
against my breast, while he grasped a great knife with the
other. Behind them a huge coal-heaver held suspended at
the end of a pike, just above my forehead, a fragment of
linen drenched with blood and mire.
As they appeared on the scene I extended my right arm,
and there I stood, absolutely motionless, waiting for silence.
I obtained it.
I told them that the municipal body chosen by themselves
had been entrusted by the National Assembly with a charge
for which they, the Commune, were responsible not only to
the Assembly but also to the whole of France, having sworn
to deliver it up in the state in which they had received it.
45
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
I told them that when we heard the people had designs on
the life of the prisoners we refused to oppose them by force
of arms ; we had rejected the idea with horror, being per-
suaded that if just arguments were once laid before a
Frenchman he would not fail to listen to them. I made
them see how impolitic it would be to deprive ourselves of
such valuable hostages at the very moment when the enemy
was in possession of our frontiers. And on the other hand,
would it not be a proof of the prisoners' innocence if we
did not dare to bring them to trial ? How much more
worthy is it of a great people, I added, to condemn a King,
guilty of treason, to death upon the scaffold ! This
salutary example, while it strikes well -justified terror into
the hearts of tyrants, will inspire the peoples of the world
with a devout respect for our nation, etc. ... I ended by
entreating them to resist the counsels of a few ill-disposed
persons who wished to drive the men of Paris into behaving
with violence in order afterwards to poison the minds of their
provincial brethren against them ; and then, to show them
the confidence of the Council in their good intentions, I told
them it had been decreed that six of them should be
admitted to march round the garden, with the com-
missioners at their head.
Instantly the barrier was removed and about a dozen men
entered, bearing their spoils. These we led towards the
Tower, and were able to keep them fairly in check till they
were joined by the workmen, after which it was more difficult
to restrain them. Some voices demanded that Marie
Antoinette should come to the window, whereupon others
declared that if she did not show herself we must go
upstairs, and make her kiss the head. We flung ourselves
before these maniacs, swearing they should only carry out
their horrible design after passing over the bodies of their
municipal officers. One of the wretches declared I was taking
the part of the tyrant, and turned upon me with his pike so
furiously that I should certainly have fallen under his blows
if I had shown any weakness, or if another man had not
opposed him, pointing out that in my place he would be
obliged to act as I did. My air of imconcern impressed him
46
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
and when we went out he was the first to embrace me, and
call me a fine fellow.
In the meantime, two commissioners had thrown themselves
in front of the first inner door of the Tower, and prepared to
defend the approaches with devoted courage ; whereupon the
others, seeing that they could not win us over, broke into
horrible imprecations, pouring out the most disgusting
obscenities, mingled with fearful yells. This was the final
gust of the storm, and we waited for it to blow over. Fear-
ing, however, lest the scene should lead to some climax
worthy of the actors, I decided to make them another speech. ^
But what could I say ? How could I find the way to such
degraded hearts ? I attracted their attention by gestures ;
they looked at me, and listened. I praised their courage and
their exploits, and made heroes of them ; then, seeing they
were calming down, I gradually mingled reproach with
praise. I told them the trophies they were carrying were
common property. " By what right," I added, " do you
alone enjoy the fruits of your victory ? Do they not belong
to the whole of Paris ? Night is coming on. Do not delay,
then, to leave these precincts, which are so much too narrow
for your glory. It is in the Palais Royal, or in the garden of
the Tuileries, where the sovereignty of the people has so
often been trodden under foot, that you should plant this
trophy as an everlasting memorial of the victory you have
just won."
" To the Palais Royal ! " they cried ; and I knew my
ridiculous harangue had won their approval. They left the
place ; but first nauseated us with their horrible embraces,
redolent of blood and wine.^
* This seemed to me the last gentle means that remained to ua ; and I
am convinced, by the effect I saw produced upon my barbarous audience
as I went on, that I only gained my end by the big words I used, — words
that in such a context were an insult to reason and humanity. If I had
failed I should have seized the sabre of a National Guard and killed the first
man who had dared to come forward. When a man loves everything connected
with the glory of his country, and is deeply sensible of the duty it entails,
there is nothing that he will not attempt, and I would almost say, attempt
successfully. — {Note by Daujon.)
^ We have translated into Latin several lines that cannot be quoted in
Daujon's words. — (Authors' Note.)
One of these men, after embracing me, thrust in my face totam cunni
47
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
In the meantime the Legislative Assembly sent us the six
commissioners for whom we asked. They learnt with
pleasure that the rumours that had been already spread were
extenorem partem quam ipse a cadavere excidercU: " moecham, aiebat, nemo
jam fiitiiet / " Qvam partem dumpilis tenebat, he seemed as proud as the
leader of the Argonauts.
On this subject I think I ought to repeat what Bazire told to a friend of
his and mine, in whom I have every confidence.
Bazire was then — during that September — a member of the Comit4 de
Surveillance of the legislative body.
Several men came to the Committee to hand over the Lamballe's pockets,
in which there were some valuable articles. One of them told me in a sort
of transport se, postquam huic m/ulieri exanimi vestem detraxisset, non
potuisse sibi temperare quin, libidine incenstis ad conspectum tarn eximii
corporis, earn futiierat ; that having next torn her heart out he ate it on
the spot, and he assured me he had never tasted anything so delicious. He
even drew my attention to the blood with which his lips were still stained.
Then he pulled from his pocket caniis lacerat frustum pilis obductum,
which he said he had cut off the Lamballe.
"After placing on the table the gold and jewels they had found on
her, they asked us for a reward, and their manners and gestures forbade
all idea of a refusal. We told them to take what they wanted. They
were satisfied with a coin of twenty-four livres ; but if they had taken
everything we should have been very glad to be rid of them so
cheaply."
I prefer to believe that most of the facts in this story are greatly
exaggerated, not to say untrue. I will support this opinion.
1st. The man from whom Bazire says he received this horrible con-
fidence seems to have been the same who spoke to me at the Temple,
and showed me what Bazire refers to ; yet this man said nothing to
me beyond what I have repeated, although it would have been more
natural and less dangerous to speak openly at that time, since the
moment of action, if I may so describe it, is most likely to be also the
moment of expansion.
2ndly. The massacres of the prisoners took place in public ; and this
particular murder in such broad daylight that the outrage is in-
conceivable.
3rdly. Several individuals boasted of having torn out the heart to
which Bazire alludes ; several others of having eaten it ; others again
said they saw it on the end of a pike, etc.
4thly. I found my opinion, moreover, on the fact that it is impossible
for the most diseased imaginations, even though mastered by the
blindest passion, to dwell for a moment without horror on some parts
of this atrocious picture. But finally, I found it on the fact that
Bazire, when I put forward some of these objections, merely answered :
"That was what he told me, but I don't believe a word of it."
And I, too, — did I not hear that son accuse his mother and his aunt of
things that could hardly take place between self-respecting lovers? I
heard it — I wrote it down — and I, too, said : I cannot believe a word
of it.
Ah ! if we honour humanity, if we respect morality, let us believe that
the intoxication in which these wretches were wallowing, which had
perhaps been increased by a certain amount of applause, due, no doubt to
the dangers that threatened the country, had driven them to desecrate' all
48
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
false, and in the name of the legislative body expressed their
satisfaction with the way we had behaved.
Hardly had the commissioners departed when Petion, the
mayor, arrived. He appeared to be in a desperate state
because we had allowed Marie Antoinette to be made to kiss
the Lamballe's head. " No magistrate," he said, " should
have permitted anything so horrible." He was delighted to
hear, not only that no one had entered the Tower, but that
the commissioners who were with the prisoners had not even
allowed them to approach the windows to find out the cause
of the noise in the garden, but had made them go at once
into another room at the back.
SanteiTe, the commandant-general, also came to the
Temple.
We did not wish to interrupt Daujon's narrative by notes of
our own, but a short postscript is necessary.
The passage in which the municipal officer describes tlie
moral collapse and unreasoning fear of Louis XVI. at the ap-
proach of the septemhriseurs is calculated, no doubt, to give a
shock to many of our readers ; and no one can fail to be
surprised, since in many other circumstances of greater and
more imminent danger the King showed so much courage, so
much resignation — so much insensibility, if the word is pre-
ferred— that it is very astonishing to hear of his trembling at
the news that a band of murderers was approaching. They
had been nearer him on the 6th October, and at Varennes,
and on the 20th June, and he had remained unmoved. When
that ia most sacred. But let us beware of adding anything to what is
already only too horrible.
I will end this deplorable tale with a fact that shows how cautious one
must be in believing anything that is contrary to nature.
A father and mother, very worthy people, both moral and humane, who
had trained their children on the same lines, assured me that one of them
had boasted of taking part in the massacres of September : and that it was
only a few hours before his death, after a long illness, that he confessed to
them that he had not even been in the prisons, but had said he had been
there to avoid looking like a coward, and because he heard others saying
the same.
Yet he had covered his sword with blood; he had put blood upon his
clothes ; he had accused himself of a crime he had not committed. The
fact that he had not committed it was a crime against the public opinion
of the moment; and how many, perhaps, were guilty of no other.— (iVo^e
by Daujon. )
49 E
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
he crossed the garden of the Tuileries on the morning of the
10th August he had been for a quarter of an hour in the very
midst of an uncontrolled mob^ whose appetite had been whetted
by the blood of the newly-murdered Suleau and Vigier. But
his disconcerting indifference did not forsake him for an instant.
" How early the leaves are falling this year ! " was his only
reflection on the events of the day.
And afterwards^ on the 21st January, was his attitude that
of a coward ? The only two witnesses who were able to watch
him closely on the scaifold — his confessor and his executioner —
both testified that he died with heroic resignation.
I do not thinkj then, that these few lines by Daujon need do
any real injury to the memoiy of Louis XVI. Not that I doubt
the truth of the story, but it is very probable that this man who,
without being bad, was rough and rather uncivilised, may in his
hatred for the tyrant have branded as cowardice a mere momentary
weakness — excusable enough, one must admit, after so many
weeks and months and years spent in agony and disillusionment.
And if it is true that the King's habitual calmness forsook him,
and his 'nerves for once obtained the upper hand, we can only
assume that as a rule he controlled them, and that the insensi-
bility usually attributed to his callous nature should really be
ascribed to the unsuspected force of his character. One would
certainly not have expected a conclusion so flattering to the
King to be drawn from Daujon's narrative. Louis XVL's one
exhibition of fear reminds us that the blood of Henri IV. flowed
in his veins. On all the other occasions, no doubt, he was
afraid, but afraid after the same fashion as his ancestor, who
as he flung himself into the thick of the battle was wont to
grind his teeth and say : " You are trembling, are you, you
carcase ? If you only knew where I was taking you ! "
It is with the greatest repugnance that we approach another
subject : the Dauphin's horrible words in connection with his
mother, his sister, and his aunt. Here we are dealing witli the
greatest crime of the Revolution, and the most atrocious plot,
surely, that was ever formed in a human brain. It was very
probably Hubert, the infamous Pere Duchesne, who conceived
the shameful idea of making the son give evidence against his
mother — and in such terms ! (We refer those of our readers who
wish to know what those terms were to M. Campardon's History
of the Revolutionary Tribunal in Paris, vol. I. page 129).
50
THE NAKRATIVE OF DAUJON
We -will make a contribution to this heartbreaking story in
the form of another document, a document even more terrible
perhaps than the official minutes that were read aloud in court in
the presence of the wretched and indignant mother.
We know that on the 19th January, 1794, Simon's functions
as the Dauphin's tutor came to an end. An English agent, in
regular correspondence with Lord Granville,^ wished to learn,
from Simon himself, the exact condition of Louis XVI.'s son
at the time. This agent twice succeeded in meeting the too
notorious cobbler. The latter did not deny that he had left
his post from sheer disgust ; he was horrified by what he had
seen. The English spy reported these interviews to his Govern-
ment in the following words :
" Simon admits that the King (Louis XVII.) has been taught
the habit of drinking strong liquors, and that he has no sort of
education ; that Hebert and the soldiers with whom he is
thrown teach him nothing but foul and blasphemous language.
He declares that more than once he wished to counteract these
lessons, and incurred very great danger on account of the child's
indiscretions. Those who give me this information add that
they do not believe a word of this. Simon thinks
that the measures taken at that time to make him (Louis XVII.)
give evidence against his mother, and to prove by his condition
that the evidence was true, were enough to injure him, body and
soul. He has no hesitation in saying that there is something
the matter with the boy and that nothing is being done to cure
him. He is given nothing to amuse him but the most obscene
books, and in fact, since the King's death, everything possible
has been done to deprave him. He says that now and then the
boy feels his position, and cries, and becomes desperate ; and
then the commissioners divert him with brandy and billiards :
and that several times Hubert has threatened him that he will
have him guillotined, and that this terrifies him so horribly
that he (Simon) has often seen the child faint away at the
threat." ^
The threat was by no means an empty one ; for the frenzied
brains of the politicians of the day were haunted by the idea of
' Probably Lord GVereville. In some of the later notes the name la so
spelt. — ( Translator. )
''■ Francis Drake to Lord Granville. Schedule No. 2 (Feb. 12th, 1794).
Historical Manuscripts Commission. The manuscripts of J. B. Fortescue,
Esq., preserved at Dropmore, vol. II., p. 529.
§1 E 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
sending this child of nine years old to the scaflfbld. Did not
Billaut-Varenne say ? — " Let the allied powers understand plainly
that the blade above the head of the tyrant's son is hanging by
a single thread, and that if they advance one step nearer he will
be the first victim of the people. It is by vigorous measures of
this kind that a new government gains self-confidence." ^
We must complete Daujon's narrative with two other docu-
ments. We must follow the murderers as they carry Madame de
Lamballe's remains away from the Temple, and must learn the
end of the repulsive incident.
The Due de Penthi^vre, being warned of the dangers that
threatened the Princesse de Lamballe, had charged M. de
to keep his eye upon her, and ''supposing any harm should
happen to her to have her body followed wherever it was carried and
have it buried in the nearest cemetery till it could be taken to
Dreux."
This, it must be admitted, was a very strange precaution. So
clear a premonition of the horrible scene that followed the
princess's death would seem to show, not merely that the
murderers acted with premeditation but even, incredible as it
appears, that the Due de Penthifevre had received notice of their
intentions.
Be that as it may, M. de ordered three devoted servants
to disguise themselves so that they could not possibly be recog-
nised, gave them a fairly large sum in small assignats, and
enjoined upon them to spare nothing in their efforts to fulfil the
duke's behests, if by any unhappy chance the princess could
not be saved. Weber, in a note in his Memou's, describes the
strange peregrinations of these emissaries.
" The Princess de Lamballe," he says, " had escaped on the
2nd, and they were beginning to hope, when on the 3rd they
were informed that the massacres were being renewed.
Finally M. de was told that the villains had put an
end to the life of the Queen's friend and seemed resolved
to glut their infernal rage upon her still quivering remains.
"It was then that these three faithful servants, over-
coming the horror with which the cannibals inspired them,
joined them in the hope of securing the unhappy woman's
^ H. Wallon, Histoire du Tribunal Eivolutionnaire de Paris, vol. I.
p. 285.
52
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
body. The cannibals wished first to carry it to the Hotel de
Toulouse.1 Someone warned the prince's retainers, who
shuddered at the bare idea, but nevertheless, did not wish
to oppose it. They opened all the entrances, and tremblingly
awaited the horrible procession. They were already in the
Rue de Clery when a man, touched by the horror that the
prince's household must surely feel if this dreadful spectacle
were thrust upon them, went up to Charlat, who was carrying
the head, and asked him where he was going.
" ' To make this kiss her fine furniture.'
" ' But you are making a mistake. This is not her house :
she does not live here any longer, but at the Hotel de Louvois
or the Tuileries.'
" And it was quite true that the princess had some stables
in the Rue de Richelieu, and some rooms in the palace,
though this did not alter the fact that her real home was in
the Hotel de Toulouse. But happily the brigands believed
this good-hearted man, who thus saved the prince's faithful
servants from a deeply painful experience. The horde of
savages, then, did not stop at the hotel, but went to the
Tuileries. They were not allowed to enter the palace,
however. Then they returned to the corner of the Rue des
Ballets, in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine,^ opposite the notary's
house, and went into a tavern, where there seemed some hope
of robbing them of the mutilated body ; but they seized it
again and flung it on a heap of corpses near the Chatelet.
The emissaries of M. le Due de Penthievre imagined that
they could easily find it there again, and turned all their
attention to securing the head.
"It was still adorned by her beautiful hair, when the
monsters came to a fresh decision : namely, to make the
wretched woman look once more upon the scenes in which she
would no longer move ^ — for in their horrible delirium they
' Where the Due de Penthievre usually lived. It is now the Bank of
France. It seems evident that the murderers, before going to the H6tel de
Toulouse, had gone to the Temple ; for, as we have seen, it was by Daujon's
advice that they went back to the heart of the town.
^ {Sic) Here we should read Rue Saint-Antoine. The end of the Rue
des Ballets was opposite to La Force, where the Rue Malher is now.
^ All these allusions enable us to form an idea of the route followed by
those who were carrying Madame de Lamballe's remains. From La Force
53
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
thought the senseless remains of their victim were still
conscious of their outrages. At the very moment that the
head passed under the door of La Force, a hairdresser
sprang forward and, with the most astonishing dexterity,
cut off the hair.
" The emissaries of M. le Due de Penthievre were much
distressed by this, for they knew the prince would have
especially desired to keep the princess's hair; but they
became only the more anxious to get possession of what was
left, and after having reduced Charlat's mind to a state of
complete confusion they persuaded him to leave the pike
at the door of a tavern, into which two of them accompanied
him. It is said that the man P.^ took advantage of that
moment to drag the head from the iron that pierced it and
to wrap it in a napkin with which he had provided himself
on purpose. He summoned his comrades and went with
them to the Popincoui't section, where he declared that he
had, wrapped in the napkin, a head that he wished to
deposit in the cemetery of the Quinze-Vingts, and that he
would come next day with two others of his comrades to take
it away, and would give a hundred crowns in silver to the
poor of the section.
"They reported to M. de what they had done,
and he advised them to go to the section very early the next
morning, and made arrangements elsewhere for the recovery
of the body. It was in a half-ruined house that the remains
of the unhappy victims had been laid. M. de spared
they proceeded first to the Temple by the Rue des Franc-Bourgeois, Rue
du Chaume, and Rue de la Corderie. To reach the Hotel de Toulouse (Bank
of France) they certainly followed the boulevards as far as the Porte Saint-
Denis, since they went through the Rue de Olery. Moreover, we know
that at the Temple they expressed their intention of going to the Palais
Royal ; they must therefore have approached the Tuileries by way of the
Passage du Perron, the garden of the Palais Royal, and the Carrousel.
The main artery of Paris, the streets of Saint-HonoriS, La Ferronnerie, La
Verrerie and Le Roi de Sicile, led them to the Rue des Ballets opposite to
La Force. Then, by the streets of Saint- Antoine, La Tixeranderie and La
Coutellerie, they went to the Chatelet, in the intention, probably, of ridding
themselves of the corpse by depositing it in the Morgue. But the Morgue
was closed and they threw the body into a building-yard. Finally they
returned with the head to La Force, where the Duo de Penthi&vre's
emissaries succeeded in wresting this last trophy from them.
1 Pointel (Jacques), residing at No. 69, Rue des Petits-Champs
54
THE NARRATIVE OF BAUJON
neither trouble nor money in his efforts to find those of
Madame de Lamballe, but without success. In the meantime
M. de , seeing that his emissaries had not returned,
was beginning to suspect their good faith, for he had handed
over to them all the money they asked for, when he was told
that the three men had been arrested on the charge of
murdering Madame de Lamballe.
" M. de hastened to the section without delay and
testified to the truth so persistently that the commissioners of
the section not only set the prince's servants at liberty, but
authorised M. de to take away Madame de Lamballe's
head. He went to the cemetery at Quinze-Vingts with a
plumber, placed in a leaden box all of the precious remains
that had been rescued, and despatched them to Dreux, where
they were deposited in the same vault that was to receive the
body of M. de Penthievre."
One cannot fail to be touched by the unemotional terms of
the official report drawn up at the section of the Quinze-Vingts,
in the very hour that the Due de Penthievre's envoys arrived
with the desecrated remains of the Queen's friend. Whatever
Weber may say, the prisoner's body was found, as the following
document shows.
The original of this document is preserved in the Carnavalet
Museum, and is one of the various relics that were formerly in
the Ledru-Rollin Collection. The text has already been
published by M. Bertin.
Extract from the Original Minutes of the Quinze- Vingts
Section.
" In the year 1792, the first of liberty and equality, on the
3rd of September, there came before the Permanent Com-
mittee of the Section of the Quinze-Vingts the Sieurs Jacques-
Charles Hervelin, drummer of the gunners of the Section des
Halles, formerly the battalion of Saint- Jacques-la-Boucherie,
residing at No. 3, Rue de la Savonnerie, opposite the little
Rue d' Avignon, at the sign of the Cadran Bleu ; Jean-Gabriel
Queruelle, cabinet-maker in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-
55
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Antoine, at the corner of the Rue Saint-Nicolas, in Bouneau's
house; Antoine Pouquet, gunner in the Montreuil Section,
living at No. 25, Rue de Charonne, in the house of Sieur
Vicq ; Pierre Ferrii, stationer at No. 39, Rue Popincourt ; —
bearers of the body of the ci-devant Princess Lamballe, who
had just been killed in the Hotel de la Force and whose head
had been carried by some other persons through the open
streets at the end of a pike. They informed us that they had
found the following articles in her garments : — A small book
with gilt-edged pages, bound in red morocco and entitled
The Imitation of Jesus Christ, a pocket-book of red morocco,
a case containing eighteen national assignats of five livres
each, a gold ring set with a moveable blue stone, beneath
which was some fair hair tied in a true-lover's knot, with
these words above it : It was blanched by sorrow ; a piece of the
root called racine d' Angleterre, a little ivory penholder with
a gold pen and two little circles of gold, a little knife with
two blades and a tortoiseshell-and-silver handle ; a corkscrew
of English steel, a little pair of pincers in English steel for
pulling out hairs, a small sheet of ordinary cardboard with a
picture bearing some indecipherable words, a list of linen and
other garments on a piece of paper, two little glass bottles
with gold tops, one containing ink and the other some wafers
of various colours, and a sort of picture with a design on both
sides of it, representing on one side a flaming heart wreathed
with thorns and pierced with a dagger, with this legend
below : Cor Jesu, salva nos, perimus, and on the other a
flaming heart pierced with a dagger, embroidered all round
with blue silk — all of which we examined in the presence of
the above-named and undersigned, to whom we returned all
the articles as they desired, to be taken by them and delivered
over to the National Assembly, in accordance with their
promise and assurance ; in acknowledgment of which they
gave us a receipt and signed their names together with us,
commissioners and registrar, Caumont, Borie, Savard, com-
missioners ; Renet, registrar.
"And on the same day, at seven o'clock in the evening,
Citizen Jacques Pointel, residing in the section of the
Haymarket, No. 69, Rue des Petits-Champs, appeared before
56
THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON
the Committee of the Quinze-Vingts section, asking us to use
our authority in the matter of burying the ci-devant Princesse
de Lamballe''s head, which he had just succeeded in securing.
Since we could but applaud the patriotism and humanity of
the said citizen, we, the undersigned commissioners, instantly
proceeded to the Foundlings' Cemetery, and there had the
head buried, and drew up the present report of the said
burial, in order to promote the truth and make sure of the
facts at the time.
" Delesquelle and Savard, commissioners ; Pointel, Renet,
secretaries."
Finally, without wishing to spread the rumour that Madame
de Lamballe was the mistress of Philippe Egalit^, Due d' Orleans,
we will quote the following extract from the report of an English
agent employed in Paris at the beginning of Septemberj 1792.
It is a finished picture of the absolute indifference with which
people who prided themselves on being philosophers acquiesced
in tragedies that did not affect their personal safety.
" Madame de Lamballe was literally cut to pieces in
the most cruel and the most indecent way. Her head and
her heart were carried on pikes through the streets
When this miu-der took place on Monday, Lindsay and some
other Englishmen were at the Palais Royal with the Due
d'Orleans. While they were waiting for dinner they heard a
large crowd making a great noise, and going to the window
they saw Madame de Lamballe's head, which was being
taken to the Temple,^ where it was shown to the Queen.
" Overcome with horror at the sight, they drew back
into the further end of the room, where the Due d'Orleans
was sitting. He asked what was going on. They answered
that the mob was carrying a head on the end of a pike.
' Oh,' he said, ' is that all ? Well, let us go to dinner ! '
" While they were at dinner he asked if the women in
the prisons had been massacred, and having received the
answer that several of them had suffered this sad fate,
he said : ' Tell me, pray, what has become of Madame
' Or, no doubt, to be more exact, which they were bringing bach from the
Temple and taking to the Tuileries.
57
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
de Lamballe.' M. Walkiers, who was seated beside him,
intimated, by a movement of his hand round his neck,
that she had been killed. ' I understand you," said the duke,
and immediately began to speak of something else." '-
^ Letters from Mr. Burger to Lord Granville ; under date of September
8, 1792. Historical Matmscripts Commission. The Manuscripts of J. B.
Forltscue, Esq., preserved at Dropmore. (Vol. II.)
58
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
A MANSEKVANT EMPLOYED IN THE TEMPLE
(10th August, 1792— 13th October, 1793)
Louis Francois Turgy was born in Paris on the 18th July,
1 763, and at the age of twenty-one entered the King's service.
He filled a very modest post in the royal kitchens, and it was
his devotion to his employers, and nothing else, that won him
fame.
We are about to read of the manner and circumstances in
which he showed this devotion. From July to October, 1793,
he was the sole remaining link that connected the prisoners of
the Temple with the outer world.
After leaving the Temple, Turgy joined his family at Tournan-
en-Brie ; later on he accompanied Louis XVI. 's daughter to
Vienna ; in 1 799 he was at Mittau, at the Court of the exiled
Louis XVIIL, and it was there that he met Cldry, who, at the
instigation of the Princess of Hohenlohe, was putting together
his recollections and writing an account of the imprisonment in
the Temple. He begged Turgy to show him the letters of the
Queen and Madame Elizabeth, but these precious documents
had been left at Tournan, and Turgy's father destroyed them
at the time of the Consulate, lest, if the relics were found, he
should be suspected of royalist tendencies. It was those who
had been readiest to stake their hves during the Terror who
were seized in this way with a sort of reactionary fear when the
danger was over. For many of them the nightmare did not
begin till the day dawned.
Turgy then, at the time of the Restoration, possessed nothing
but his very accurate recollection of all that had occurred, and
the contents of a. few undated notes. It was with the help
of these documents that his narrative was written. It was
59
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
published in 1818, among the documentary authorities for the
Histoire de Louis X VII. by Elckardj who undertook to revise it.
As early as 1799, at Mittau, the Duchesse d'Angoul6me had
shown her gratitude to Turgy by prompting Louis XVIII. to
write the following testimonial :
"I have the greatest satisfaction in stating that during the
imprisonment of the late King my brother in the Temple, and
after his death, as long as it was possible to serve the late King
my nephew, the late Queen, his mother and my sister-in-law,
the late Madame Elizabeth my sister, and Madame la Duchesse
d'Angoul6me my niece, the Sieur Turgy served them with un-
failing courage, fidelity, zeal, and intelligence. And since I
cannot at this moment reward him as I should wish, I desire
at least that this testimonial should be for him a certificate
of merit for ever, and for his children and descendants an
incentive to effort, that they may in future years imitate the
example he has given them : In witness whereof I have written
and signed this testimonial with my own hand, and have had my
seal affixed to it. At the Castle of Mittau this 1 7th December,
1799- Signed: Louis."
The King kept his promise. In 1814 Turgy was nominated
an officer of the Legion of Honour and received a patent ot
nobility. When he died in Paris, on the 4th June, 1823, he
was first valet de chamhre and usher-of-the-closet to Her Royal
Highness Madame la Duohesse d'Angouleme.
On the 10th August, 1792, 1 found it impossible to obtain
admission to the Tuileries. On the two following days my
attempts to get into Les FeuiUants were equally useless. The
royal family ate nothing there but the food brought to them
from various places by the people who had remained with
their Majesties. Having heard that Louis XVI. was to be
removed to the Temple, I hurried off' to M. Menard de
Chousy, Commissary-general of the King's Household, to
secure the favour of being employed there. He promised me
that, wherever the royal family were lodged, if a single
manservant of any kind were needed, he would name no one
but myself for the post, because he knew that this would
please the Queen. He at once despatched M. Rothe,
Comptroller of the Buttery, to ask at the town haU for
tickets of admission ; but he came back at five o'clock and
60
THE UNFOKTUNATE LOUIS XVI.
In the dress he'wore while confined in the Temple.
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
said that the officials would only promise the tickets for the
next day, the 14th. I foresaw that once the King were in the
Temple it would be impossible to gain admission without an
inquiry and various formalities that would frustrate my end :
for, since I had never been concerned with anything but my
duties, I had nothing to recommend me to the enemies of the
royal family. Without speaking of it to anyone else, I said
to my comrades, Chretien and Marchand : " Let us simply go
to the Temple ; perhaps if we show a bold front they will let
us in." They followed me. We arrived at the main entrance
at the very moment when one of the officers of the guard was
allowing a man to pass in. This man was supplied with
a ticket, and I recognised him as being in the King's employ.
I begged the officer to let me speak to this man, and told the
latter that I and my companions also belonged to the House-
hold. At first he hesitated ; then he answered : " Take my
arm, and make your companions take yours, and I will get
you in." Which he did. We were taken to the kitchen,
where I foimd no supplies of any kind. Three times I was
obliged to go out to procure what was necessary. I decided
to go out by the door called the Porte du Baillage,^ and took
the precaution of making the porter and the guards look at
me well, so that I should be able to get in again.
We laid the King's supper in the same room of the palace
that H.S.H. Madame la Princesse Louise Adelaide de
Bourbon-Conde has now made into her chapel.^ The royal
family continued to have their meals in this room until the
Great Tower became their only lodging.^
The royal family, after being confined for three days
1 See page 29, Plan A, No. 63.
^ That is to say in the large salon of the Temple, Plan A, No. 22.
^ The Great Tower only became their lodgings on the 26th October ; and
although it is quite certain that Turgy was well-informed, especially with
regard to everything concerned with the domestic arrangements of the
royal family, it seems astonishing that the prisoners should have been
taken to eat their meals in the rooms of the Temple Palace. To reach
them it was necessary to go out of Palloy's enclosure, and, as the passage 77
had been cut short (see plan B), to cross the entire garden from end to end.
That they did this is hard to accept.
Madame de Tourzel, on the contrary, says they went down, at the hours
of their meals, to a little room that was below that of the Queen and
served as a dining-room.
61
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
in the tiny cells of the Feuillants, would have thought them-
selves comparatively fortunate if they had been left in
the palace. But after supper the King was informed that,
in order to ensure his safety and that of his family, they were
to occupy the Tower during the night. The sentries who
had been posted on every landing of the Tower were all
MarseilLais, who never ceased singing while the Queen was
passing up to her rooms, as well as throughout the night :
" Madame monte A sa tour,
Ne sail quand descendra."
Two days after our arrival the commissioners of the
Commune wished to know who had admitted us to the
Temple. I answered that the Committees of the Assembly,
after having enquiries made in our sections, had authorised us
to take up our duties here : whereupon they retired. The
next day Chabot, a deputy, Santerre, the Commandant-
general, and Billaud-Varennes, at that time acting as
procureur-gen£ral to the Commune, came to identify all the
people who had remained with the royal family, and to make
a list of their names. They asked us if we had been in the
King's employ, and I answered in the affirmative. "But
who can have let you come in here ? " cried Chabot. I told
him that Petion and Manuel, after making enquiries in our
section, had allowed us to come in. " In that case," said
Chabot, " it must be because you are good citizens. Remain
at your posts, and the nation will take better care of you
than the tyrant ever did."
When we were alone my comrades, who were much
alarmed, said to me : " Do you want to be the death of
us all ? You tell the town councillors that we were sent here
by the Assembly, and you tell the deputies that we were sent
by the Commune : we wish we were well out of it ! "
Nevertheless, they remained in the Temple and were faithful
to their duty, leaving the place only when I left it myself, as
I shall presently relate.
As soon as the King was removed to the Temple the most
minute precautions were prescribed. This was the routine in
my own special department. Before dinner or any other
62
THE NARHATIVE OF TURGY
meal someone went to the Council Room to summon two of
the municipal officers. They came to the serving-room,
where the dishes were prepared and tasted before them, so
that they might see there was nothing concealed in them, nor
anything suspicious about them. In their presence the
decanters and coffee-pots were filled. The covers for the
decanters of almond-milk were torn, according to their
directions, by any person and from any piece of paper they
chose.
Then we all proceeded to the dining-room, but we did not
lay the table till we had shown it, above and below, to the
officers; we unfolded the tablecloths and napkins before
them ; they tore the rolls in halves and probed the crumb
with forks, or even with their fingers.
Nevertheless, I was often able, in a passage or the corner of
a staircase,^ to replace the paper stopper of a decanter by
another, upon which some warning or news had been written,
either with lemon-juice or with extract of gall-nut. Some-
times I rolled a note round a little pellet of lead, covered it
with another piece of stronger paper, and threw it into
the decanter of almond-milk. I indicated what I had done
by a sign upon which we had agreed. When the paper
stoppers had no writing already upon them they were used
by the Queen and Madame Elizabeth for giving me orders
or information to transmit to someone else.
Some of the means we employed for communicating with
each other are described in M. Hue's book and in Clery's
journal : but as it was necessary for these means to be varied,
they demanded the greatest caution, and often involved
delays in transmitting news to the royal family. To obviate
all these inconveniences the Queen and Madame Elizabeth
devised a way of corresponding directly with me by signs.
'■ The kitchens and offices of the Temple were a long way from the
Tower (see Plan A). We shall see, in Moelle's narrative, how the dishes
for the prisoners' table were carried through the Grand Prior's Palace and
the immense garden of the Temple — the whole length of the existing
square. There was nothing unusual, moreover, about this journey ; at
the Tuileries till 1830, the King's meals were carried in this way through
the whole series of rooms. Even at Versailles the strange procession was
daily to be met with in the courts of the palace, escorted by an armed
guard.
63
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
The following is a list of the signals suggested to me one
by one by the princesses, in connection with the events of
September, 1792, with a view to their being kept informed
both of the progress of the foreign armies and of the
transactions of the Convention, in spite of the increased
vigilance of the municipal officers. They are in Madame
Elizabeth's handwriting.
For the English : place the right thumb upon the right eye ;
if they are landing near Nantes, place it on the right ear ;
if near Calais, on the left ear.
If the Austrians are successful on the Belgian frontier,
place the second finger of the right hand on the right eye. If
they are entering the country hy way of Lille or from the
Mayence direction, use the third finger as above.
For the troops of the King of Sardinia, use the fourth
finger in the same zeay.
N.B. — Be careful to keep the finger stationary for a longer or
shorter time according to the importance of the battle.
When they are within fifteen leagues of Paris follow the
same order for the fingers but be careful to place them on the
mouth.
If the Powers shoidd be concerning themselves zmth tJie
royal family, touch the hair with the fingers of the right hand.
If the Convention should pay any attention to them, use the
left hand ; but should that body go on to the order of tlie day,
use the right.
If the Convention should withdraw, pass the whole haiid
over the head.
Should the troops advance and be successful, touch the nose
with one finger of the right hand, and use the whole hand
when they are within fifteen leagues of Paris
The left side is only to be used to indicate the successes
of the Convention.
In answering any question the right hand is to be used and
not the left.
These signals, as is evident, as well as the questions in
various notes, refer to the hopes and fears of the princesses
or to information, true or false, received by them.
64
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
The written correspondence went more fully into the
subjects that I could only vaguely indicate by signals. For
in spite of the vigilance of eight or ten persons hardly
a day passed during the fourteen months that I was in
the Temple, without my delivering some notes or other
to the royal family, either by means of the devices already
mentioned, or while I was giving them the objects connected
with my duties, or receiving them from their hands. Or
else I would put the note in a ball of thread or cotton,
and hide it in a corner of a cupboard, or under the marble
table, or in the hot-air holes of the stove, or even in the
basket that the sweepings were carried away in. A movement
of my hand or eyes indicated the spot where I had succeeded
in hiding the ball. In this way the King and the princesses
were nearly always kept informed of the progress of events.
The facilities that I had for going out two or three times a
week to fetch provisions enabled me to be the bearer of any
instructions that the King or Queen wished to send to
anyone, and to bring back any notes or news that were
given to me for their Majesties. I also kept the frequent
trysts that M. Hue made with me, sometimes in the most
lonely parts of Paris and sometimes out of town, when
he would give me letters for the King or answers to his
Majesty's orders. Neither persecutions nor imprisonment
nor, in a word, any fear for his own safety, ever affected his
devoted courage.
It was Madame la Marquise (now Duchesse) de Serent
with whom the Queen and Madame Elizabeth most often
corresponded. Her household supposed me to be her man
of business, and had orders to let me in at any hour of the
day or night. Everyone has heard of the fine spirit and
noble devotion shown by this lady throughout the trials
of the royal family, on a great many occasions that were
full of danger to herself. Who is there that has given
greater proof than Madame la Duchesse de Serent that
loyalty to the King, to a soul of true nobility, is a real
religion ? Her historic name is prominent in many literary
works.
It was only rarely that I was searched on entering or
65 F
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
leaving the Temple, because I was very careful to supply the
warders with everything they asked for when they visited the
kitchens. This made them more amenable. But as soon as
I approached the Tower or any room occupied by one of
the royal family aU my movements were observed. I was
forbidden to speak to any person whatever, except in a loud
voice, when it was necessary in the exercise of my duties.
I was even, on account of my relations with the outer world,
the object of particular vigilance. And the royal family
themselves, to avoid drawing suspicion upon me, were cautious
to such a degree that on one occasion the King, having given
me a knife with a broken handle that I might have it
mended, and remembering that he had not shown it to
the municipal officers, asked me to return it to him at
once, and gave it to them, saying : " You see, gentlemen,
there is nothing inside." Then the King returned the
knife to me, impressing upon me not to have a new handle
put to it, for, he added : " I value it very much as it is,
because it was given to me by my father."
I was above all charged to discover the fate of those
whose zeal and fidelity had been proved by the royal family.
The greater number of them had been forced to leave
France in the service of their noble cause, and the laws
against the emigres, which became more and more severe,
were consequently a matter of special interest to the
princesses, as we may see by this note from Madame l^lizabeth
written about the end of October.
"A note for Madame de S. (Serent). When the
against the emigres are quite completed, let tis know, and go
on giving us news on the subject.''''
I have not yet mentioned Toulan. His behaviour and
violent way of speaking during the first days he was in the
Temple made us dread the return of his period of service.
However, the sight of the misfortunes of Louis XVI., and
the princesses, and the royal children, combined with their
generosity and gentleness, had from the very first made an
unexpected impression upon the ardent, sensitive heart of
this young man, an impression of such strength that he
66
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
resolved to employ every means to alleviate the fate of the
royal family. I do not know how he contrived to inform the
princesses of his fortunate conversion ; but it was thought he
could serve them best by doing nothing to alter the other
commissioners' opinion of him, and by keeping up his revolu-
tionary tone and behaviour towards the King and his family.
Having been assured by Madame Elizabeth that I might
be perfectly open in my dealings with Toulan, I had several
meetings with him in different places, where we talked over
the various commissions that the princesses confided to him.
He fulfilled them with so much zeal and ability that at the
end of November Madame Elizabeth informed me, in the
note that I give below, of the distinguishing name by which
the royal family would in future allude to him.
" You mill give this (note) to Toulan, whom in future we
shall call Fidele. If you cannot deliver it at dinner-time, go
to-morrow, so as to be able to give him an answer to what we
should receive from him to-day. Tell us the bad news as well
as the good, when there is any.''"'
But while those who were the enemies of the royal family
only because they had not known them were moved to pity
by their misfortunes, the prisoners were subjected to the
most atrocious treatment by others : others who had had the
honour of seeing them when they were in the height of their
prosperity, or who, perhaps, owed everything to them. One
day the Queen said to me : " Turgj', I have broken my comb :
please buy me another " ; whereupon the poet D C ,^
^ Uorat-Palemezeaux, Chevalier de Cubi&res, born at Roquemaure on the
27th September, 1752.
This personage, who was despised by all alike, both by the terrorists he
flattered and by the royalists whom every day he doomed to the scaffold in
verses that were as dull as they were sanguinary, composed a number of
revolutionary poems. He wrote odes in honour of Carrier, Robespierre,
and Marat. Everyone knows how Chaumette answered him when he
wished to dedicate a volume of verses to Madame Chaumette : " My wife,"
said the procureur of the Commune, " is a woman of letters ; her works
are in my chest of drawers." Opening a drawer, he showed the poet a
pile of old stockings which the Citoyenne Chaumette had mended and
marked with his initials.
CubiSres was a member of the insurrectionary Commune of the 10th
August. On this subject Prud'homme relates that in order to be made a
member of the electoral body on that occasion he declared that his mother
67 F 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
who was a municipal officer, cried : " Buy one of horn : wood
is too good for her." The Queen went on giving me her
orders, as if she had not heard the insult. I replaced the
comb, which was of tortoiseshell, by a similar one. When
she saw it the Queen said: "So you have disregarded the
orders of D C , for he declared that wood would
be too good for us ; he who, but for the kindness of the
King ^" Her Majesty paused. I ventured to say:
" Madame, there were many who seemed to be paying court
to the royal family, but it was only because of the Treasury."
The Queen was good enough to say to me : " You are quite
right, Turgy."
On the 2nd December the municipal body of the 10th of
August was replaced by the body known as the provisional
municipality. They doubled the number of commissioners
guarding the King and the royal family : and the following
incident showed us the kind of men we had to deal with.
The Queen, having been ill all the next day, had taken no
food, and told me to bring her some broth for supper. As I
was actually handing it to her she learnt that the woman
Tison was unwell, whereupon she ordered the broth to be
taken to her. This was done. I then begged one of the
commissioners to go with me to the kitchens to fetch another
liad committed a crime in making him noble when his father was not so.
Being on a visit of inspection at the Temple, and noticing the particularity
with which Louis XVI. fasted in the Ember Days and read his prayers, he
reported it to the Commune, arguing that the King, being pious, must
necessarily be a monster, since Louis XL and Philip II. of Spain 'had been
both pious and tyrannical. He had taken the name of Dorat from vanity,
thinking in this way to create some confusion between his heavy verses
and the charming work of the poet of the Baisers. We know what
Madame Roland thought of the Chevalier de Cubiferes : " Faithful to his
two characteristics of insolence and cowardice, which were plainly written
for all to see upon his repulsive face, he preached sans-culottism as he had
once done honour to the graces, and composed verses to Marat aa formerly
to Iris. As he had been amorous without tenderness, so he was blood-
thirsty without passion ; he knelt humbly before the idol of the day,
whether it were Tantalus or Venus, for it mattered little to him provided
he could rant, and earn enough to eat. ... A shallow courtier, an insipid
flatterer, at once idiotically conceited and servilely polite, he was more
surprising to people of sense and more unpleasing to people of judgment
than any being that has ever been seen." By way of a finishing touch to
this portrait we will add that Dorat-Cubi&res revrrote the Phid/re of Bacine,
and tried to make the world believe that one of his works was a newly
discovered tragedy by Comeille !
68
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
bowl of broth. Not one of them would accompany me, and
her Majesty was obliged to do without the broth.
Toulan, who had been elected to sit in this new town-
council, constantly gave me information with regard to the
character and sentiments of his colleagues ; which information
was very useful to me in my dealings with them.
It was M. Parisot who gave me the decree prescribing that
the King should be brought to the bar of the Convention
to answer certain questions. I placed it under Clery's bed,
and his Majesty read it at once. That zealous royalist,
Parisot, often gave me writings and notes of very great
importance ; while Toulan, for his part, supplied the princesses
with reliable information as to all that was being hatched in
the Jacobin Club and the Committees of the Convention.
He contrived, too, to be often on duty during this terrible
time. His devotion and the eager marks of sympathy shown
by several of the commissioners, whose names, I regret to say,
I have forgotten, gave some consolation and even some hope
to the Queen and the royal family.
Clery has told how we devised a means of correspondence
between the King and the princesses, from the moment that
all communication between them was forbidden. While he,
Clery, was a witness of the sorrows and sublime courage of
Louis XVI. it was my part to watch the fears, the gleams of
hope, and the anguish of the Queen, M. le Dauphin, and the
princesses.
The accursed 21st of January dawned. At about ten
o'clock in the morning the Queen tried to persuade her
children to take some food, but they refused. Soon we heard
the report of firearms. Madame Elizabeth, raising her eyes
to heaven, cried : " The monsters now they are con-
tent ! " The Queen was speechless with grief ; the young
prince burst into tears ; Madame Royale shrieked aloud.
Picture the scene ! And all the time the drums were rolling
and the maniacs who guarded the Temple were shouting their
applause.
Cl^ry remained in the Temple for more than a month
longer, but was unable to communicate with us. When I
saw him after his release I received from his hands, with
69
LAST DAYS OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE
feelings of sorrow and veneration beyond all words, the
following note, which the King in his infinite kindness had
left for me.
Note from Louis XVI. io Clery.
'SXst January, 1793, a quarter to 8 in the morning.
" I charge you io tell Turgy how greatly I have been pleased
with his faithful attachment to me, and with his zeal in fulfilling
his duties. I give him my blessing, and beg him to continue
caring, with equal devotion, for my family, to whom I commend
him.''''
The fury of the regicides being assuaged for the moment, the
municipal officers who had so greatly tormented Louis XVI.
and his family came more rarely to the Temple. The
princesses were watched less closely, and were able to talk
to each other and give me their orders. When Toulan,
Michonis, and one or two others were on duty, the royal
prisoners enjoyed a semblance of liberty.
The only note of this period that I still possess is from
Madame Elizabeth.
" Thank Hue for us. Find out from him whether he took
the hair himself, or bought it ;^ and whether he could not,
through some private source of information, find out what the
Committee of General Security means to do with iw."
It was during this period that Toulan conceived the rash
idea of helping Louis XVII. and the royal family to escape
from the Temple. According to my notes, the plan was to
be executed as follows. I was to carry away the young King
in a basket covered with napkins : the Queen, disguised as a
municipal officer, was to come to the door on the staircase to
ensure my being allowed to pass : her Majesty was to go out
a few moments afterwards : Madame Royale, dressed like
the lamplighter's son, and accompanied by M. Ricard^ dis-
' The hair of Louis XVI. no doubt.
^ At that time Inspector of National Property, and a zealous royalist.
At the restoration he was appointed to a post in the office of the Royal
Lottery. It was Ricard who wrote the notes that Turgy and Toulan
delivered to the prisoners. His thin, neat handwriting, Turgy said, was
of the greatest use.
70
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
guised as the lamplighter, and carrying his box, was to pass
out at the same time as Madame llllizabeth, who was to go
before them dressed, like the Queen, as a commissioner. I
know nothing more of the measures that were to be adopted
in the escape from the Tower. I believe it was owing only
to the hesitation of the municipal officers (I am not speaking
of the intrepid Toulan) that the plan was never executed.
When the royal family were not too closely watched by
their warders, the princesses liked to remind each other of
various services that had been rendered to them by the loyal
during the horrible scenes of the Revolution. The Queen
condescended one day to recall the first occasion on which I
was fortunate enough to be observed by herself and the King,
on the unhappy morning of the 6th October. She repea,ted
several times, in the presence of Louis XVII. and Madame
Royale, that I had saved her life that day by opening for her
the secret door between her private apartments and the room
called the (Eil de Boeuf, through which she ran to take refuge
with the King, shutting the door in the face of the murderers
who were pursuing her.^ The most remarkable fact on these
occasions was that the Queen never spoke of those who had
given her such cruel cause for complaint, and while she
enjoined upon her august children to remember good actions,
she set them an example in the forgetting of injuries.
Towards the end of March the unfavourable reports that
reached the General Council with regard to Toulan and
several of his colleagues made the commissioners on duty
more suspicious than before. We were obliged to resort to
notes once more. Madame Elizabeth wrote : —
" M.''s words gave us much pleasure. (Monsieur, the King's
brother, had declared himself Regent of the kingdom.)
' There were, in the palace of Versailles, two ways of communicating
between the King's rooms and those of the Queen : one was a secret way,
a narrow and winding passage, built at the same height as an entresol,
which traversed the whole ground floor of the palace ; the other was public,
and in a certain sense oflBcial, and consisted of three little rooms, over-
looking a back yard, and dividing the Queen's large room from the (Eil de
Bmuf. This whole labyrinth of little rooms and secret staircases and
hidden doors is still existing, though closed to the public, and there on the
actual spot one may recall the events of the night between the 5th and 6th
October, which are described with so much comusion and inconsistency by
those who saw them.
71
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
" As it is most important that our secret should be known hy
no one, do not speak of our method of correspondance.
" Give this (a note) to the person at whose house you were
on Saturday, and with it give something to make the writing
visible. Above all do not answer me till Tuesday, so as not to
have more letters to deliver than necessary. Did they seem
anxious to find out who gave us news, and do you think they
spoke of it to the General Council ? I have found the book.''''
(This was a Holy Week that Madame Elizabeth had asked
me for.)
Various accusations, notably those brought by Tison and
his wife against the Queen, the princesses, and many others,
were the reason that Toulan's name and those of some other
municipal officers were erased from the list of those appointed
to serve in the Temple. The men who replaced them received
such stringent orders, and were, moreover, so devoted to the
enemies of the royal family, that correspondence again became
extremely difficult. In the meantime the progress of events,
not only in France but also beyond the frontier, was greatly
disturbing the princesses. They were obliged to resort to
signals again. Madame Elizabeth gave me the following
code, partly at the end of April and partly in May.
" In the case of a trvee, pull up your collar. If we are
being demanded at the Jrontier, put your right hand in your
coat-pocket. If Paris is being provisioned, lay your hand on
your chin.
" Touch your J'orehead if General Lanmrliere is gone. If
the Spaniards are trying to join the troops from Nantes, rub
yowr eyebrows. If it is thought likely that we shall still be
here in the month of August, blow your nose without turning
round.
" After supper go to Fiddle (Toulan) and ask him fhe has
any news of Produce (the Prince de Conde) ,• if he has good
news, put the napkin under your right arm ; if he has none,
put it under the left. Tell him that we fear the information
given against him must have caused him some annoyance.
Beg him, as soon as he has news of Produse, to tell you ; and
72
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
havd the information on to us by means of the signs we
agreed upon.
" Could you not, if anything fresh were to arise, tell it to us
by writing with lemon juice cm the paper stopper of the bottle
that holds the cream, or else wrap it up in a pellet and throw it
to my sister one day when you are alone with her ?
" Take possession of the paper stoppers in the bottles whenever
I blow my nose as I come out of my room : and if you have
got them lean bacJc against the wall as I pass, lowering your
napkin at the same time. If what I ask should be dangerous
for you, let me know by passing your napkin from one hand to
the other.
" If they think we shall still be here in the month of August
hold the napkin in your hand. We hope the people will not
worry you any more. Do not be afraid to use your left hand ;
we prefer to know everything.
" If the Swiss declare war, the signal is to be one Jmger
under the chin. If the troops from Nantes reach Orleans, use
two fingers when they are there.''''
During the month of June the woman Tison gave signs of
mental derangement. She was always sad, and sighed like a
person suffering from remorse. Her husband, who was a
brutal man, for some reason obliged her to bring fresh
charges against the Queen and Madame Elizabeth, and she
accused them of carrying on a daily correspondence with me.
To prove her statements she carried down to the Council
Room a candlestick that she had taken from Madame
Elizabeth's room, and showed the commissioners a drop of
sealing wax that had fallen on the socket. It was quite true
that on that very morning the princess had given me a sealed
note for the Abbe Edge worth de Firmont, and I had lost no
time in taking it to Madame la Duchesse de Serent. Her
Royal Highness sealed no notes but those for this venerable
divine, who was her confessor.^
On returning from the Council the woman Tison entered
the princesses'' room. At the sight of the Queen she became
' See the Mimoires of the Abb^ E. de Firmont, 3rd edition,' pages
121-127.
73
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
greatly agitated, and flinging herself at her Majesty's feet,
under the very eyes of the commissioners, whose presence she
entirely disregarded, she cried : " Madame, I entreat your
Majesty to forgive me" — (those were the words she used).
" I am a miserable woman ; I am responsible for your death
and for Madame l^lizabeth's." The princesses kindly raised
her from the ground and tried to calm her.
A moment later I and my two fellow-servants, Chretien and
Marchand, brought in the dinner for the royal family, accom-
panied by the four commissioners on duty. The woman Tison
threw herself on her knees before me, saying : " M. Turgy,
I ask your forgiveness. I am a miserable woman. I have
been the cause of the Queen's death and of yours."
Madame Elizabeth quickly raised her, and said : " Turgy,
forgive her." I had the honour of telling her Royal
Highness " that the woman Tison had done nothing to offend
me ; but even if she had I would forgive her with all
my heart." The woman then fell into fearful convulsions ;
she was carried into a room in the Palace, and it took eight
men to hold her. Two days later she was removed to the
Hotel-Dieu, and she appeared no more at the Temple.^
M. Follope, the municipal officer to whom the woman
Tison had made her statement, had told me of everything
that she had laid before the Council, and had advised me not
to be with the princesses so much, so as not to confirm the
suspicions of the other commissioners and warders. In the
evening he fortunately succeeded in persuading his colleagues
that Madame Tison's accusation and the scene that had just
taken place were both the effect of the unhappy woman's
madness. He threw her deposition into the fire.
That was certainly one of the days when I was most afraid
• This tragic scene must have taken place on the 6th July, for under
date of the 8th, two days later, we find recorded in the registers of the
Hotel-Dieu the admittance of "Anne Victoire Baudot, wife of Tison,
born in Paris in the Parish of St. Etienne-du-Mont." She left the
hospital on the 6th Ventose, year III. (24th February, 1795), and was still
alive at the end of the year VI. Her husband, Pierre Joseph Tison, born at
Valenciennes in 1734, remained at the Temple after the Queen's death.
He was still there in July, 1795, and was kept there almost like a prisoner.
He left only on the death of the " child of the Temple." His own death
is recorded as taking place on the 3rd Nivose, year VI. (23rd December,
1797), at No. 36, Rue de Limoges, Paris.
74
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
of being arrested : afraid, not pn my own account, for I was
resigned, but because my arrest would have deprived the
royal family of every means of correspondence, and of their
only solace in the weariness and torture of their horrible
imprisonment. On several occasions the commissioners had
detected the signals and glances that were exchanged between
the princesses and myself, and had tried to guess their
meaning, making desperate efforts to find out to what they
referred. This caused us the most painful anxiety, but their
attempts were always in vain. One day Tison made off with
the paper stopper of a bottle ; examined it carefully ; held it
up to the light ; then, finding nothing on it, put it in his
pocket. The princesses grew pale from fear : their anxiety
may be imagined ! But either because Tison lost the paper,
or because he did not know how to make the writing visible,
this was a false alarm. Strange to say, not one of our notes
was ever discovered ! Every day I thank Heaven for it.
The warning of the worthy M. Follope^ made us more
cautious than ever. It was not till two days later that the
Queen, when returning her napkin to me, succeeded in
slipping into my hand a paper on which her Majesty had
written these questions :
" What are they shouting under our windows ? (Here there
are some words that have become illegible.) Perhaps my
.iist^"^} 'as^clfpKsoine ctlmdiid'piil^.,'. Has-Jhe Qommurte,bm>i .
r&eondUtd&d?', , J'a,. the. .womdri SS^isetr? eii, ^qd'}is fliey^f^yh 'J^t) ■.
they mean to replafe, J^ei" jiere ? ^ Is she well cared for?
Who could read these:]ASt',wprfl3Vith'«^,t1^?ing touched.?
It was at this time that I informed the Queen of my inten-
tion of begging the General Council of the Commune to allow
me to be shut up in the Tower, so that I might devote myself
entirely to the personal service of the princesses and spare
them many very irksome cares. Her Majesty answered :
" What you suggest would give us great pleasure ; but it is
through you that all our information comes, and if you were
shut up, we should in future be entirely in the dark. If
^ He was indicted in the same bill as Madame lllizabeth, and died with
her on the 9th May, n9i.—(,Note by Turgy.)
75
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
anyone should come to take us away, and you are unable to
accompany us, come and join us wherever we may be, with
your wife, your son, and your whole family."
The circumstances connected with Madame Tison's insanity
had greatly impressed her husband. The kindness shown by
the Queen and the princesses to this woman who had given
them so many reasons for complaint, touched the gaoler to
such a degree that he told me he repented of his conduct in
the past, and desired to give some proof of his sorrow. This
he did on the first opportunity.
When the young King came to the dinner-table he was given
a higher seat than the others, a seat with a cushion on it. One
day, this seat being occupied by a commissioner called Bernard,
who had been a priest at the Hospice de la Pitie, the little
King was seated on an ordinary chair. He was so low that
he could hardly reach the food on his plate ; but no one dared
to disturb Bernard, who was noted for his boorishness. Tison
came into the room ; I made a sign to him ; he understood it.
Bringing forward another chair, he asked the commissioner to
give the child the seat he generally used. Bernard roughly
refused, saying, in the hearing of the Queen and the princesses,
" I never saw a table or chair given to prisoners ; straw is
good enough for them." ^
Tison offered to give me information and to provide me
with .newgpapersj J .told M^^iaRi? Elizabeth . of . aU ^ this;^ anji
:shes«6n*anBjwre"d''asFon6.w^| ■••• : : ; : •::/!'.•!*.•,,•
" Be very cautious jn regand, tq-^ 7^p«y ^ggestion, and do
not let your zetd '-tekd ^u^ ihSo -f^iy '^omse that might be
dangerous to you ; and if you agree, let it he only after making
him promise the most absolute secrecy. Have you not been
forbidden to speak to Tison ? Think over that, too. Try to
find out whether the movements of the enemy are to be directed
against my companion (the Queen) ; and if they are not goings
to remove her property to some greater distance than two
leagues. (There was some question of taking Louis XVII.
and Madame Royale to the Chateau of Choisy-le-Roi.) This
' Bernard was proscribed as an accomplice of Robespierre, and executed
on the 29th July, 1794 (11th Thermidor, year 'il.).—(Note by Twrgy.)
76
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
question is not urgent. It was Toidan who gave v^ the news-
paper of which I spoke yesterday. The way you serve us is
our one comfort. Ask Madame S. (Serent) Jbr an answer
about Miranda?''
I will give several other letters written by Madame
Elizabeth between the early days of July and the end of
September.
" Yesterday we saw a newspaper that spoke of Saumur and
Angers as though the R. (Republic) were still in possession of
them : what does that mean ? /* Marat really dead ? Is
there much excitement about it ?
" Give Fidele this note from us. Tell him — and my sister
wishes you to know — that we see the child (Louis XVII.) every
day from the staircase window : but that need not prevent you
Jrom giving us news of him.
" Why do they begin beating the drums at six o''clock in the
morning? Answer this. If you can, without compromising
Madame Serent and yourself, write to her for me, aind say I
beg her not to stay in Paris on my account. The resolution
passed by the Cordeliers against the nobles makes me miserable
on her account. If amything happens at the Federation
Festival, do not forget to tell me about it.""
" Here is a note for Fidele. Where is that gentleman's
command ? When you mention a fresh name to me tell me
where the person lives, for I do not know amy of those gentle-
men. I have nothing left now but the gall-nut, so they can
search if they like. I have gradxmlly got rid of all you have
given me. I asked you if you had taken the same precautions ;
if not, da so ; I insist upon it : it is necessairy for the safety of
that person (the Queen) and for yours.''''
" Is there any truth in the story of all the victories they
have been crying in the streets during the last three days ? "
" Tell Fidele how much his last note touched us. We did
not need his assurance to make us trust him completely and for
ever. His signals are good. (He had taken a room in a house
near the Temple where he played on a horn various airs that
77
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
conveyed the ideas to be signalled.) We will simply say : Aux
armes, citoyens, in the case of there being any idea of reuniting
us, but we micch fear there is no need, to prepare for that
contingency.''''
" If you wish me to ask for some almond milk, hold your
napkin low down as T pass. What has become of the English
Fleet ? (several illegible words) and of my Brothers ? Have
we a fleet in any sea f What do you mean when you say that
all is going well ? Do you mean that there is hope of the end
coming soon, of a change of popular feeling, or that every-
thing is going smoothly ? Have there been any executions of
people who are well known in our sense of the word ? How
are Madame S. (Serent) and my abbe (M. Edge worth) ? Has
he by any chance heard anything of Madame de Bombelles,
who is near Saint-Gall, in Switzerland ? What has happened
to the people at Saint-Cyr ? Tell me if you have been able to
read all this, and cover the bottle with paper that will be useful
to us. As to Fidele, ask him. if Michonis sees my sister and if
there is no one but Michonis to guard her.''''
" What you tell me about the person (the Queen) gives me
much pleasure. Is it the gendarme or the woman who sleeps in
her room ? Would it be possible to hear from the woman that
Constant (M. Hue) saw anything besides news of wliat she
loves ? If you cannot be useful to her here, go to some safe place
where you will not be obliged to serve ; ^ but tell me where, in
case we have need of you. As regards myself I do not believe
I shall be exiled; but if I am, come and join me, unless you are
necessary to the person (the Queen). / cannot believe yet that
you are going. Try to let me know what is decided ; and if
you should remain, and the woman Tison should come, could
you throw a piece of paper into the basket or else put it into a
piece of bread ? Tell me ^ it is through Madame S. (Serent)
that you have news of a Being (the Abbe Edgeworth) who,
like m£, knows how to appreciate those who are faithful. It is
with much regret that I find I am to be robbed of the last person
of that kind yet left to me.''''
' This referred to the requisitions of troops.
78
THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY
" Is your fate decided ? Answer this question. If it should
he necessary for us to have your note without delay, lean
against the wall and lower your napkin. Tison sometimes
prevents us from taking it at once, but we watch him : so be
easy. Only do this when you have some urgent information to
give us. Who is the municipal officer whom they suspect of
corresponding with us ; and is he suspected of writing, or only
of giving v^ news ? Who suggested it ? Are you not sus-
pected at all ? Be very carefuV
In the course of September, Hebert and the commissioners on
duty in the Temple came to Madame Elizabeth''s rooms and
notified to the princesses that since the principle of equality
ought to prevail everywhere, in prisons as elsewhere, they
would have no one to wait on them in future. Soon afterwards
the Council drew up an order by which the royal prisoners
were limited to one kind of food at each meal.
I told Madame Elizabeth of this, and also of the threats to
send her away, which were repeated every day. Her Royal
Highness answered :
"11th October, 1793, at a quarter past two.
" / am deeply grieved. Preserve your life for the time when
we shall be more fortunate, and able to reward you ; and take
away with you the comfort of having given faithful service to
your good but unhappy master and mistress. Impress upon
Fidele not to endanger his safety too much by our signals (on
the horn). If by amy chance you should see Madame Malle-
main, give her news of me, and tell her I am thinking of her.
Farewell, good man and faithful subject.""
" l%th October, 1793, at two o'clock.
" My little girl (Madame Royale) declares you made me a
sign yesterday momimg ; relieve my anxiety, if it is still pos-
sible. I could not find anything, and if you put it under the
bucket it may have been washed away with the water, and will
certainly never be found. If there is anything fresh for u^, let
me know if you are still able to do so. Have you been able to
read the second little paper, in which I spoke to you of Madame
79
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Malkmain, one of my women ? This (a note) is for Fiddle.
Tell him that I have no doubt as to his sentiments. I thank
him for the news he gives me, and am. miich distressed at what
happened to him J- Farewell, good man and faithful subject.
I hope that the God to whom you have been faithful will
support you, . nd will cornfort you in all you have to endure.""
On that day, the 12th, the commissioners of the Temple
made us carry up Madame Royale's dinner as usual, but they
would not let us lay the table. They gave each of the pri-
soners a plate, in which they put some soup and a piece of
beef, with a bit of coarse bread beside it. They gave them
a tin spoon, an iron fork, and a knife with a black wooden
handle ; and a bottle of wine from the tavern.
The commissioners then ate the dinner prepared for the
royal prisoners.
It was thus that the scoundrels began to carry out their
odious order, and it was thus that the princesses were treated
throughout the rest of their imprisonment.
On the following day, the 13th October, at six o'clock in
the morning, the municipal officers notified to me that I was
to leave the Temple instantly. I and my good comrades,
Chretien and Marchand, went away heart-broken by what we
had seen, and full of fears for the future of our august and
unhappy employers.
I joined my family at Touman-en-Brie. At first I suffered
a good deal of persecution, but little by little it ceased, and I
was allowed to live in peace.
' He had been arrested, but had escaped. — (Note by Turgy.)
80
PKINCBSS MARIA CHARLOTTE THERESA.
From a miniature made at Basle in 1795.
THE NARRATIVE OF
TOWN-COUNCILLOR GORET
''Charles Goret, formerly Inspector of Market Supplies,
municipal officer, residing at No. 25, Rue de Bievre."
Such is the information supplied by the National Almanach of
1793, and it is nearly all we know about this individual. We
will only add that at the time of the 9th Thermidor Goret had a
post as agent to the Minister of the Interior, and to the Com-
mission for Supplying the Town of Paris with Provisions. His
narrative appeared during the early months of the Restoration,
and was entitled : My testimony with regard to the confinement of
Louis XVI. and his family in the Temple Tower.
I was a member of the famous Commune of August 10th,
1792. It may seem strange that I owed my appointment to
this post, which was fraught with so much danger, to the
famous Abbe Delille and several of his colleagues, professors
at the College de France, to whom I had the honour of being
known. They sent for me to my own house on the morning
of August 10th, and on my joining them employed all their
influence to persuade me to fill this post in the place of their
colleague the Abbe Cournaud, who had been nominated
during the preceding night by the Section of Sainte-Gene-
vieve, now the Section of the Pantheon. In vain I resisted :
I was obliged to yield ; and those same gentlemen, who were
not without influence in the section, immediately saw that my
name was substituted for that of M. Cournaud. When they
gave me the nomination paper, they said to me : " We know
you, and we hope you will fulfil the duties of this office in
accordance with our wishes." I do not think I betrayed
their hopes.
81 G
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
About nine or ten o'clock in the morning of the 10th
August, then, I found myself on a bench of the General
Council of the Commune. It is needless to record here what
took place during the most stormy moments of that body's
existence : there were witnesses enough. It was thence that
I was sent, as a member of the General Council, to guard the
royal prisoners, a few days after their arrival at the Temple.
They were then in the building adjoining the Tower,^ and
had a staircase connected with the staircase of the Tower.
There were four or five little rooms, which were not very
habitable, for they contained no furniture that was not
strictly necessary. They were only about fifteen or sixteen
feet above the ground, and the windows were not barred.
Later on I will return to this subject.
I entered the room in which the royal family were all
sitting together. My orders were to keep my hat on my
head when I went in, but I began by disobeying that order.
I was also told to address the King simply as Monsieur, and
I had heard that this did not disturb him in the least, but
that he was obviously annoyed when addressed as Capet.
This name, therefore, never once left my lips in his presence.
At this time he was still wearing his orders, of which he was
deprived later on. When I entered he was playing chess
with his sister Madame Elizabeth, and I sat down at the back
of the room, the ceiling of which was nearly as low as that
of an entresol. This made the room rather dark. To save
myself from embarrassment I had taken a book from a little
bookcase ^ that was there, as though I intended to read ; and
a moment later the Queen, who was near the window,
watching the game with her children, spoke to me very
pleasantly. " Come over here, monsieur," she said ; " where
we are you will see better to read." I thanked her, observing
that I cared little about the book, without saying more ; but
^ That is to say, in the Little Tower. (See plan A.)
^ At the very beginning of his confinement the King had asked for books.
He read a great deal to himself and a little to his son, whose education he
undertook. It has been calculated that between the 13th August, 1792,
and the 21st January, 1793, he read 257 volumes. The ladies had also
asked for books : the Thousand and One Nights, the romances of Cecilia,
Evelina, etc. (See Papiers du Temple, by M. la Morinerie, Nouvelle Revue
of April 1st, 1884)
82
THE NARTIATIVE OF GORET
the truth is that I should have been afraid to be seen accepting
the Queen's suggestion, for I knew that the National Guards
on watch at the door could look through the key-hole and
see all that went on in the room. Various people had already
been seriously compromised with the General Council by
reports from that quarter. Madame Elizabeth, though
engaged in her game with the King, seemed amused at my
embarrassment, which was after all very natural in any novice
who was at all capable of reflecting on the vicissitudes of
life. " There," I said to myself, " is a family whom I have
seen at the very zenith of power and splendour and honour,
confined now in this humble, gloomy lodging, while I am not
even allowed to show them the least attention; whereas
formerly I should have considered myself greatly honoured and
very fortunate if they had graciously accepted my homage."
It seemed to me that Madame Elizabeth read my thoughts,
especially when she said : " Come, your Majesty, be off" ! " allud-
ing to the chessman known as the king. Soon the King rose
from his seat, and came over to tell me that they were in the
habit of going out to walk about in the shade of the garden,
and that it was necessary to obtain permission from the
Council in residence at the Temple. I instantly sent to ask
for this permission from my colleagues of the Council ; and
as soon as it was secured we prepared to go out.
Madame Elizabeth came up to me, saying : " As this is the
first time you have been here, monsieur, perhaps you do not
know the correct rules of precedence. I will teach them to
you. You lead the way, and we will follow you." I obeyed
the instructions of the august mistress of the ceremonies,
and we set off. When we reached the foot of the staircase
the sentry who was on guard there asked me if he should
present arms. I answered simply : " You ought to know
what your orders are," and as I passed on at once I could
not see what he decided to do.
As soon as we were in the shade the King and Clery, the
valet de chambre, amused themselves by giving the young
prince some exercise with a little ball.^ The Queen sat down
' In the Daily Record of Demands made on behalf of the King and His
Family in the Temple after the 5th September, 1792, by CUry, valet de chambre
83 G 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
on a bench, with the princesses, her daughter and Madame
;6lizabeth, on her right hand. I was on the left. She
opened the conversation by pointing to the Tower,^ which
faced us, and asking me what I thought of it. "Alas,
of the. Prince EoyaX in the King's Employ, we find this entry : " For the
Prince Royal, two rather large balls. " (See Papiers du Temple, by M. la
Morinerie, Nouvelle Revue of April 1st, 1884.)
1 In La Maison du Temple de Paris, by JEenri de Curzon, we may read
the following detailed account of the fouf-hundred-year-old dungeon that
served as a prison for the royal family.
" There is every reason to believe that this formidable witness to the
greatness of the Templars remained absolutely unchanged from the time
of its foundation to the day it was destroyed, and that it might yet have
stood against the assaults of several centuries. It was, indeed, so solidly
built that no record of any restoration or repairs, except of the roof, was
ever entered in the account books.
" A fortress such as this, one would think, was destined to repel many
a violent assault, for the Templars built it with as much care as they had
expended on any of their castles in the East, which were so often besieged.
In France, however, their castle was never to be more than a witness, a
symbol, a guarantee of the feudal power and authority of their Order ;
for the Temple Prison had no history ; it was never put to the test, so to
speak, till the day when it was demolished by the workman's hammer.
"We should be wrong, however, to pass it by without a close inspection,
for it is of a rare type ; unique, perhaps, in its simplicity, and at the same
time both robust and graceful. We will try to depict it as completely as
possible, with the help of original documents.
" The materials had been very carefully chosen. The Report of the
Official Inspection of Ancient Buildings, drawn up by Colbert's orders in
1678, describes it as being : ' du haut ban franc et liain du faubourg Saint
Jacques et du Mont Souris.'
" The Visitation of 1495 describes it thus. ' Cest une grosse tov.r de
pierre tailUe qarie, et h chascun quanton une tourelle de mesmes, prinse
de pii jusques au feste. Et toutes cincq sent convertez de pUmibz et
vousteez de quatre estaiges ; et dedans icelle a puys, cave, four, moUin et
chappelle, le tout hien entretenu. Lesquelles tours sovloyent estre environneez
de fossez a fans de cuve, plains cPeauwe, et a pons-levis, qui estait forte
chose; mais on a esti contrainct, du temps des Templiers, de les combler,
et d, present, n'y a point.' This description, the oldest we have been able
to find, was still accurate at the beginning of this century. We will add
the correct figures, and make them more complete by giving some account
of the interior.
" The height of the Great Tower included four storeys and a loft under
the roof, without counting the cellar, which, with the well, seems to have
been no longer in existence at the time of the Revolution.
" At that time the total height was about 50 metres ; of which 7
metres were occupied by the first storey (which had become the ground
floor by the gradual rising of the soil) ; 6m. 50 by the second storey ; 6
metres by the third ; 4m. 50 by the fourth ; and 15 metres by the
pyramidal roof. The turrets only measured 45 metres.
" The openings for the well and for the cellar-stairs — built in the thick-
ness of the walls — were on the first floor, as was the case in most mediaeval
dungeons. The Tower was mentioned again in the Visitation of 1662, as
well as in that of 1756."
84.
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THE TEMPLE TOWER IN SEPTEMilEK, 1792.
From an original sketch b}' Lequeux, National Guard.
(Bibliotli^que Nationals.)
THE NARRATIVE OF gGORET
madame," I answered, " there is no such thing as a beautiful
prison ! This one reminds me of another that I saw when
I was young, the one in which Gabrielle de Vergy was im-
prisoned." " What ! " replied the Queen, " you have seen that
other prison ? " " Yes, madame," I answered. " It is a still
larger tower than this one that we are looking at, and it is
situated at Couci-le-Chateau, where I lived when I was
young." The Queen immediately called her husband, who
joined us, and when she had told him what I had just said
the King asked me for various details about the tower in
question. I told him what I had noticed there, and he seemed
satisfied, giving us at the same time a geographical description
of Couci-le-Chateau, as though he were an expert in geo-
graphy ; and indeed it is well known that his knowledge of
that science was profound.
We remained out of doors for an hour or two, after which
the royal family expressed a wish to go in, whereupon
followed the same ceremonial as before. The King retired
to his own room, and the princesses with the children to
theirs, and I remained alone in the outer room, which served
as a little salon where the family might meet for conver-
sation or games. Madame Elizabeth was the first to enter.
She came and leant against the back of my seat, and began
to sing a little song ; and on her niece entering the room
almost immediately afterwards she asked her to sing too.
The young princess refused obstinately, with childish airs
and graces, which I attributed to her sense of dignity or
to her incomplete realisation of the position she was in, of
which her aunt was more conscious. The Queen entered at
this moment, and Madame lillizabeth told her of the rebuff
she had received at the hands of the young princess. " Your
daughter wiU be obstinate," she said, " very obstinate
indeed, I assure you, sister." It seemed to me that Madame
Elizabeth was rather nettled by this refusal from her niece,
with whom she then went out of the room. The Queen was
left alone with me. She took from a little cabinet a handful
of twists of paper, which she came and unfolded before me,
saying, "This is my children's hair — at such-and-such an
age." I noticed that all the pieces of hair were more or less
85
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
fair. The Queen returned them to the place she had taken
them from, and then came back to me, rubbing her hands
with scent and waving them near my face so that I might
smell the scent, which was very sweet.^
The King had remained in his room. The valet de chambre
came to announce that dinner was ready, and we all
proceeded to the room that served as a dining-room. The
meal was, I might almost say, sumptuous. The King sat in
the middle, with the princesses and the children at each side ;
while I sat at a little distance from the table, still disobeying
the order that bade me keep my head covered. I simply
wore my scarf. The whole family struck me as eating
heartily, with the same air of serenity that they wore at
Versailles during a public dinner, when they were surrounded
by everything that could enhance their dignity and ensure
their safety. Their conversation during this meal was
confined to indifferent subjects.
The reader must not be too much surprised at my saying
that the meal was sumptuous : ^ it is but the truth ; and all
' " Bought for Louis XVI." at the Tower, some tea, some eau de Cologne
and some eau de milice (sic). — (Papiers dv, Temple, by M. la Morinerie,
Nouvelle Revue of April 1st, 1884.)
^ The following note, dating from the early days of September, will not
be without interest.
" According to the report drawn up, and heard with much interest by
the Commune, Louis XVI. and his family have in the Temple twelve
domestics connected with the culinary department : a head cook, a plain
cook, an assistant cook, a scullion, a turnspit, a steward, an assistant, a
boy, a keeper-of-the-plate, and three waiters.
" Breakfast. In the morning the steward provides for breakfast seven
cups of coflfee, six of chocolate, a coffee-pot of double cream, a decanter of
cold syrup, another of barley water, three pats of butter, a plate of fruit,
six rolls, three loaves, a sugar basin of powdered sugar, another of loaf
sugar, a salt cellar.
' ' Not all of this is consumed by the prisoners. The remains are devoted
to the use of three persons who wait upon them in the Tower, and of the
twelve domestics mentioned above.
"Dinner. For dinner the head cook provides three soups and two
courses, consisting, on days that are not fast-days, of four entries, two
dishes of roast meat, each containing three joints, and four entremets ;
and on fast-days, of four entries, at least three of them, and perhaps all,
being of meat, two roasts, four or five entremets. Dessert. — The steward
generally adds by way of dessert a plate of pears, three compotes, three
plates of fruit, three pats of butter, two kinds of sugar, a bottle of oil, a
bottle of Champagne, a little decanter of Bordeavix, another of Malvoisie,
another of Madeira, and seven rolls.
" For those who dine on what is left, a two-pound loaf and two bottles
of vin ordinaire are added.
86
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
the meals were equally so throughout the time that I was
fulfilling my painful functions at the Temple, that is to say,
till about the month of April, 1793. This is not so surpris-
ing when one learns that the heads of the kitchen department
" Swpper oorxaistB oi three soups and three courses. On days that are
not fast-days they are composed of two entries, two roasts, and four or five
entremets ; on fast-days of four entries not made of meat, two or three of
meat, two roasts, and four entremets. Dessert, the same as for dinner,
except as regards cofiTee.
"Louis XVI. 's son generally has a little supper separately.
" The increase of the number of dishes at dinner and supper on fast-
days arises from the fact that Louis XVI. fasts regularly on the days
prescribed by the Church, while his companions do not. He alone drinks
wine ; the others only drink water.
" What is left over is first given to the three servants in the Tower,
who hand on the remainder to the servants in the kitchen and pantry.
One or two dishes are added, with bread and wine.
" During the first twenty days the baker supplied bread to the value of
100 livres, at 4 or 5 sous a pound. The butcher furnished about 100
lbs. of meat a day, at 13 soiis a pound. The pork-butcher supplied
about 25 lbs. of bacon a day at 16 sous a pound. Between the 16th August
and the 9th September fowls to the value of 1,544 livres, 15 sous were sup-
plied, that is to say, 56 lbs. weight a day. The consumption of fish — includ-
ing both sea and river fish— varied from 9 to 10 lbs. a day. At the same
period a fruiterer sent in a bill for vegetables which only amounted to
4 livres ; but at that time and till the end of October a messenger from
Versailles was bringing vegetables from the palace gardens to the amount
of 15 lbs. a load. The same fruiterer supplied, between the 13th and the
31st August, fruit to the value of 1,000 livres, including 83 baskets of
peaches for 425 livres.
" Of butter, eggs, and milk the quantity used was about 40 lbs. a day :
and, during the first 27 days, 428 lbs. of butter, 160 small pats of butter,
2,152 eggs, some absolutely new-laid and some laid any time within the
week. 111 pints of cream, both double and single, 41 pints of milk, 228
bottles of Champagne and vin ordinaire. Several bottles of it came from
the cellars of the ci-devant King. A water-carrier supplied water to the
value of 4 livres a day.
" During the same period 1,516 livres' worth of wood, 245 livre^ worth of
coal, and 400 livres' worth of candles were supplied."
This report to the Commune was printed in the form of a placard, and
sold in Paris, with the following sensational heading :
A very strange Report, laid before the Gommune of Paris, cm the enormous
expenses of the prisoners in the Temple.
Do not be surprised. Citizens, if food becomes dearer. The cannibals of
the Temple Toiver, whom you imagine are being treated like prisoners, only
consume about one hundred pounds of beef and twenty-Jive pounds of bacon
a day, and during twenty-Jive days have only eaten fowls to the value of one
thousandjive hundred a-nd forty-four livres, fifteen sous. See the following
Report to the Commune.
The enemies of royalty still contrived to make the prisoners of the
Temple responsible for the general famine !
We will add, quoting M. de Vyr6's Histoire de Marie Antoinette, that
the plate of the prisoners comprised one silver soup-tureen, eighteen spoons
and forks, one gravy-spoon, one soup-ladle, eight coflfee-spoons, two coflfee-
pots, and twelve knives.
87
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
at the Temple had formerly been employed at Versailles in
the same capacity ; and the Committee formed by the General
Council took care that nothing was wanting in this connec-
tion— so much so, indeed, that the expenses of the depart-
ment amounted to more than 80,000 francs a month.^
These expenses, it is true, included those of all the people
officially employed in the Temple, who had their meals
there. There was also a special table for those members of
the General Council who were on duty, usually amounting to
twelve or fifteen, and for some of the officers on the staff of
the National Guard. The morning and evening meals were
no less unexceptionable.
When it was time to retire to rest the princesses and the
children went to their room, after first showing their aiFec-
tion for the King, with every mark of tenderness and respect.
The King, accompanied by Clery, entered his bedroom,
whither I followed them. While Clery was making every-
thing ready for his master, the latter went into a little turret
that adjoined his room, to say his prayers. I accompanied
him, but as the place measured about four feet in diameter it
was too small to hold two people without inconvenience.
The King drew my attention to this fact, and then proceeded
to read his prayers from a breviary, having placed in my
hands a book that I recognised as the Imitation of Jesus
Christ. I saw that this constraint disturbed the King, for
he added : " I shall not run away ; do not be afraid," and
I therefore retired to the other room, whither his Majesty
returned when he had finished saying his prayers. He
undressed with Clery's help, and went to bed. I remained in
this room alone with the King. I threw myself, without
undressing, upon a sofa, in the hope of obtaining a little rest ;
but this I found impossible, for no sooner did the King lie
down than he fell into a sleep that not only appeared to be
profound, but was accompanied by continuous and truly
remarkable snoring.
1 At the Sitting of the 12th August the Legislative Assembly had decreed
that a sum of 500,000 livres should be granted to the King for the expenses
of his household until the meeting of the National Convention. This sum
was to be paid in amounts of one-eighth of the total. Apparently only
the first eighth was paid to Louis XVI.
88
'■^
J. E. CliEUY.
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
In the morning when the King rose I was relieved from
my guard by one of my colleagues. He, and those who
came after him, no doubt saw the same things that I had
seen, or things very similar. An account of one of these
days, therefore, that were so painful to me, may serve as an
example of all the days that my colleagues spent in this
place, which the royal family only occupied while prepara-
tions were being made in the Tower, whither, as soon as it
was ready, they were removed. But I am not prepared to
say that all tiiose of my colleagues who filled this oflSce
behaved exactly as I did.
The Greneral Council of the Commune, as everyone knows,
was composed of a great number of men of all classes.
There were men of science in it, men of letters, artists and men
of business, merchants and artisans, from the shoemaker to
the stone-cutter ; and among these it was very natural that
there should be some whose want of education made them
little suited to fill this office worthily, though they filled it,
nevertheless, whenever their turn came or the lot fell on
them.
No doubt the royal family could detect at a glance whether
those who came among them were capable of being moved
by the feelings that their presence and situation ought to
have inspired, and regulated their conduct accordingly.
I will now describe what I saw and heard in the Tower,
after the royal family had been removed thither.^ There is
no need for me to say that there was someting sinister about
the appearance of this place, for there are various histories
of Paris that describe it. It was, in a word, a monument to
the power and despotism of the Templars, such power and
despotism as the Jesuits may have exercised in Paraguay
when they ruled there. The storey on which the royal family
were lodged was raised very high above the ground, beyond
the reach of any escalade : the first door, on the ground
floor, was of oak, about six or eight inches in thickness, and
was strengthened with strong iron bands, iron locks, and
enormous bolts on the inside. The staircase was narrow,
and upon it several other doors had been put up, of which
1 The 26th October, 1792.
89
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
the last was the entrance door to the rooms in which the
royal family were confined. This last door was of massive
iron, and was furnished with strong locks and with very
strong bolts on the inside : it was about an inch thick.
Outside it there was a landing so small that it would not
have given any foothold for an attack on the door.
The first time I went into this new prison the Queen,
recognising me, came up to me and said, " We are very glad
to see you." This place had been newly decorated, if one
may use such an expression in regard to a prison. The outer
room, in which my colleagues and I sat — for at that time
there were often at least two of us on guard — was hung with
a paper intended to represent architecture. It opened into a
little dining-room and into the room occupied by the King,
where we did not remain during the night. Next to the
latter was the room occupied by the princesses and the
children, beyond which was Clery's room. All these places
were nicely decorated and furnished. The windows, whose
embrasures measured about six feet in depth, were furnished
with strong iron bars, and had screens outside them, so that
it was impossible to see the interior of the prison from any of
the high buildings outside. The King and his family had
lost much of the serenity that I had formerly observed in
them : the King walked to and fro, and wandered from his
own room into the outer one where we were sitting. Some-
times he glanced at the upper part of the window, and asked
what the weather was like ; I have seen him, too, looking at
a large board that hung on the wall of this same room with
the Rights of Man inscribed upon it. The King, having read
what was on the board, said : " That would be very fine if it
were practicable." The Queen sat in her room more quietly,
but Madame ]6lizabeth walked to and fro like the King, and
often had a book in her hand. The children came and went
in the same way ; and the appearance and behaviour of the
whole family was very different from what I had observed
before they were moved to their present quarters. Every-
thing seemed to foretell the still greater misfortunes that we
witnessed later on. The father, wife, and sister were much
seldomer together, and conversed much less frequently It
90
THE 'NARRATIVE OF GORET
seemed as though they feared to aggravate their ills by
speaking of them ; and this is the saddest of all states, to
be beyond the reach of consolation. The children had lost
the playfulness they had hitherto preserved. In a word,
everything reflected the gloom that had been cast over this
place by preventing the light from entering except through
the top of the windows.
Who was it that prompted all these precautions, of which
some were probably unnecessary .'' I do not know. I heard
no discussion on the subject in the General Council, and I
have always believed that some secret and powerful faction
carried out these measures in spite of the Council, and even
of the Mayor who presided over it.
The Queen and Madame Elizabeth occupied themselves
with various little pieces of work in their room,^ and with
the education of the young princess, while the King, in his,
was teaching his son. Neither did the Queen neglect the
education of the latter, for one day, when the young prince
came out of her room into the one that I had just entered,
and as he passed looked at me without any kind of greeting,
the Queen, having seen it, called him and said to him
severely : " My boy, come back, and say Good morning to
the gentleman as you pass him '" ; which he did. This
incident may seem insignificant, but it is not so, for it
shows at least that the teachings of this child's mother were
very different from those that slander imputed to her afterwards,
to which subject I shall have occasion to return before I have
done. After a time the kind of affinity that had seemed to
exist between the royal prisoners and some of their warders
became less marked ; but as several of us were then on guard
together — never less than two — it is possible that they may
have noted the character of each, and have thought it best
to show more reserve. Once, however, when I was alone,
Madame lillizabeth came and asked me if I had no news-
papers I could lend them. I answered that I had none, which
was true. $he remarked that some of my colleagues some-
times lent them papers, but she hoped their doing so would
^ In M. de Eeiget's Madame Eloff interesting details will be found con-
cerning the Queen's needlework during her imprisonment.
91
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
not compromise them. I think it was then that I told her,
as the latest news, that the department had just suspended
Petion from his functions as Mayor, of which fact she at once
informed the King and Queen.
These little details, which if they are minute are also
accurate, may give some idea of the daily existence of
the royal prisoners. I will add a few finishing touches
to this picture of their circumstances.
Some historians have mentioned two or three of my
colleagues as having shown great zeal in making themselves
useful to the royal prisoners. No doubt this zeal was very
praiseworthy, but as I sometimes witnessed it myself I
am in a position to say that it was often indiscreet or
ill-advised, and that these men — setting aside the motive
that prompted their action — nearly always did more harm
than good to the august family : for reports of their zeal,
which was sometimes imprudently shown, hardly ever failed
to reach the ears of the General Council, and resulted in
measures of increased rigour being taken for the security
of the royal prisoners, for whose custody this Council had been
made responsible by a special law. Indeed, some of the mem-
bers to whom I refer were even forbidden to enter the Temple.
But I promised to give some more details. One day
when I was alone on guard the King came up to me and
asked if I had seen and known him before the circumstances
arose that brought me so closely in contact with him. I
answered that I never had that honour, although I had
very often been at Versailles and even in the Palace. " But
how was it then that you did not see me .-' " " The reason of
it," I answered, " is that I am short-sighted, and have never
been able to distinguish one person from another, even
at a short distance." " What brought you so often to
Versailles ? " "I was watching the course of a certain law-
suit in the Conseil des Depeches.'" " What was the lawsuit ?
That was the Council in which I generally presided person-
ally." "It concerned a demand on the part of several
communes of the province of Artois, who were protesting
against the execution of certain letters patent obtained
by the States of that province, authorising the division
92
LAMOIGKON DE MALESIIERBES.
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
of common lands." "I remember the affair very well,"
said the King, "and I remember too that the people won
their case." At this point in the conversation M. de
Malesherbes came in, and on the King telling him what
we were speaking of, he too seemed to recall the lawsuit in
question. M. de Malesherbes said to me : " As the people
won their case they must have been greatly pleased." " Yes,
monsieur," I answered, " but their pleasure was rather
damped by the still recent memory of all they had suffered
in the seven or eight years for which the case had been
going on, during which time their adversaries, the States of
the province, had subjected the inhabitants to outrageous
persecutions." " How was that ? " asked M. de Malesherbes.
" I am speaking the exact truth," I answered. " One
commime, that of Heninlietard, was subjected to a sort
of siege because it had joined the protesting party. Its
municipal officers and those of other communes, together with
whole families, both men and women, were thrown into
prison : and when the people, by dint of repeated prayers,
had obtained some hope of relief, some ministerial letters,
intercepted by the deputies who went to Court, reduced the
matter to the same unhappy state as before." The King then
spoke — and I give his exact words : " It was M. Deconzie," ^
he said, " the Bishop of Arras, who dragged that affair
out to such a length."
I could not help answering the King in a way I afterwards
regretted, because my words seemed to affect him disagree-
ably. This was what I said : " Alas ! how much harm
the clergy and the nobles have done you ! " The conver-
sation ended there. The King at once returned to his room
with M. de Malesherbes.
It may be that the reason the King was affected by
this was that, the province of Artois being on the frontier, he
thought it would be to his advantage that it should be
favourable to him. He spoke to me sometimes after this,
but he never mentioned this subject again.
> Louis Francois Maro Hilaire de ConziiS. This was the prelate who had
been Robespierre's patron. He gave him the post of judge in his episcopal
court on 9th March, 1782.
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
I will now describe another and more agreeable visit
paid to us by the King. We sometimes amused ourselves,
my colleagues and I, by playing dominoes with Clery. On
one occasion the King came to us, took possession of the
dominoes, and built little houses with them so skilfully that
it was plain he understood the principles of architecture and
knew the laws of equilibrium. Of course it is well known that
he was always interested in mechanics, and especially in the art
of making locks, which did not prevent him from being also
interested in science and literature. He was able to expound
Latin authors, and after his death there was found on
his chimney-piece a volume of Tacitus that had often been in
his hand. In it he had written comments that were extremely
applicable to his situation. To hira might be applied the
words : Mens sana in corpore sano. He had the strongest
constitution possible: I never heard him complain of the
least indisposition during the whole time that I was in the
habit of seeing him.
M. de Malesherbes, his sagacious counsel, was frequently
with him, especially towards the end. One day I was
escorting that excellent man away from the King's room.
When we reached the foot of the staircase we were about to
pass through the door, though the orders were to go into the
room at the bottom of the stairs for M. de Malesherbes to be
identified ; to which order he had conformed as he came in.
The venerable lawyer paused, and said : " I must go in here
to be identified.'" " It is not necessary, monsieur," I said,
holding him back by the arm, " since you are with me."
" What does that matter ? " he answered. " One should
never disobey an order " ; and he went into the room.
A man of this kind was well suited to be a legislator
since he knew so well how to give an example of submission
to the law. After this incident we crossed the great court
to the main entrance of the Temple,^ where his carriage was
waiting for him ; and as we went we spoke of Louis XVI.'s
position, for it was but a few days before the end. Of this
conversation the following words have always remained in
my memory. " I cannot," said M. de Malesherbes, " make
^ In the Rue du Temple. (See plan B, 2.)
* 94
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.—1
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
the King pay any attention to his affairs, or give his mind
to them. Grave as his position is, he shows the greatest
indifference to it." Here we see the impassibility of which I
have ah-eady spoken. This was the last time I was in the
Temple before the King's death.
On that day of tragic memory I remained at home till it
was nearly evening, and then repaired to the General Council,
where I found only a few of my colleagues, sitting in melan-
choly silence. This was broken at last by Jacques Roux, an
infamous priest who had been present at the execution, and
had drawn up the official report of the King's death, which
he proceeded to read in a tone of real ferocity. He had been
accompanied by another priest called Danjou,i also a member
of the Council. Two priests were found willing to be present
at this horrible execution. Ah, do not let us dwell upon it !
It ought to be known how these two priests, on the day
before the execution, were chosen by the General Council to
be present on the occasion. Chaumette was presiding, and he
called on the Council to elect two of its members as com-
missioners to be present at the execution, and to draw up a
formal report of the King's death, because the custody of his
person had been entrusted, by a special law, to the Council.
Not one of the members seemed disposed to accept the office.
The nomination was about to be made by casting lots, when
the two priests mentioned above spontaneously offered them-
selves for this horrible mission, which probably no other
member of the Coimcil would have been found willing to
undertake ; for I may say with perfect truth that, with the
exception of such men as Chaumette and Hebert, we were all
bewailing this terrible disaster, and asking : " Why put him
to death ? Why not send him away to Austria ? He
would do no more harm there than those of his family who
are there already." We were all in favour of ' the latter
course, and again I can say with absolute truth, without
attempting to justify the mistakes the Council may have
made on some occasions, that in this matter we showed very
' Goret is wrong. Danjou was not present — in any o£&oial capacity at
all events — at the King's execution. Jacques Roux and Jacques Claude
Bernard were the two who signed the Report of the Execution as com-
missioners of^jthe Commune.
95
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
plainly that at the bottom of our hearts we loved the Kmg.
This love for the King was shared by the majority of the
people : and was shown, too, by that sentry of whom I spoke,
who at the entrance to the Temple Tower asked me if he
should present arms, thus proving the respect he still felt for
the King in spite of the turmoil of the times, when none
were posted as sentries at the Temple but those who had
shown the greatest devotion to the principles of the Revo-
lution.
You who emigrated, you who think yourselves the only
ones whose hearts beat for the King whom you forsook at
the moment of danger, what answer can you give to this ?
Why did you not rather remain in your own country to
support the wishes of the majority of the people ?
But I am forgetting that I am at the meeting of the
General Council immediately after the King's death.^ I had
' One might bring forward a hundred instances of the annoyances — of
the cruelties even — to which the General Council perpetually subjected the
prisoners. One day — it was the 25th March — the Queen's chimney caught
fire. "In the evening," says Madame Royale, "Chaumette, the
procureur of the Commune, came for the first time to see my mother and
ask her if she wanted anything. My mother only asked for a means of
communicating with my aunt's room ; for during the two terrible nights
that we had passed with her, my aunt and I had lain upon a mattress on
the floor. The commissioners opposed this request, but Chaumette said
that in my mother's state of prostration it might be necessary for her
health, and he would mention it to the General Council. On the following
day he came back at ten o'clock in the morning with Pache, the Mayor,
and that fearful Santerre, the Commandant-general of the National Guard.
Chaumette told my mother that he had mentioned her request for a door
to the General Council and that it had been refused. She made no answer.
Pache asked her if she had no complaint to make. My mother said, No ;
and paid no more attention to what he said."
Fresh precautions were taken : a wall was built in the garden, lattices
were put up at the top of the Tower, and every hole was carefully stopped
up. On the 1st April the Commune decided " that no person on guard at
the Temple should make any drawing of any kind whatever, that the
commissioners on duty should have no commvmication with the prisoners
nor undertake any commission for them, that Tison and his wife should
not leave the Tower nor communicate with any person whatever outside
its walls." But this last prohibition, hard as it was on the prisoners, was
also hard on the Tisons : they could no longer see anyone, not even their
relations. One day when their daughter had been refused admission — it
was the 19th April — Tison flew into a violent rage, and, not knowing upon
whom to vent his fury, naturally attacked the prisoners and those who
seemed to take some interest in them. He declared to Pache, who
happened to be in the Tower, that certain commissioners spoke in lowered
voices to the Queen and Madame Elizabeth. On their names being
demanded he mentioned Toulan, Lepitre, Brunot, Moelle, Vincent, and
96
L.„
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
taken the precaution of bringing my nightcap with me, in
the hope of being able to get myself sent to the Temple that
day, to be with the Queen and her family ; and I succeeded
in being chosen.
I arrived at my post, on the storey above the one that the
King had occupied till his death, and that his family had
occupied with him till they were separated from him. I had
not witnessed the parting, because I was not at the Temple
at the time, but the first time I went there afterwards I
remarked how greatly it had affected the whole family, and
especially the Queen, who had become extremely emaciated
and was quite unrecognisable. Like her, Madame Elizabeth
preserved a melancholy silence; the children, too, were speech-
less, and the King seemed much more crushed since the
separation. But, alas ! at the time of which I am speaking
he was no more.
As soon as the Queen saw me from the room where she was
sitting with her family, she asked me to come in, sending a
message by Tison, the vakt de chambre she had then, for
Clery had not been allowed to go to her after the King's
death. The widow, as I say, asked me to go to her, which I
did at once. She, with Madame Elizabeth and the children,
was sitting at a table. They all burst into tears. "Madame,"
I said in a trembling voice to the Queen, " you must take
care of yourself for your children's sake." This was all I was
able to say to her. Then, amid her sobs, she spoke to me.
" We know of the sorrow that has befallen us," she said ;
" we heard all the preparations this morning, the movements
of the men and horses. Our loss is an accomplished fact, and
we wish to be provided with mourning." Being unable to
hide my feelings, I said nothing but a few broken words :
" Alas, madame ! alas, madame ! " I then went out, assuring
Dr. Brunier, and added that the prisoners had some means of communi-
cating with the outside world. As a proof he related that one day after
supper the Queen, in taking out her handkerchief, had dropped a pencil,
and that in Madame Elizabeth's room there were wafers, sealing-wax, and
pens in a box. Hia wife, on being questioned, said the same. The
denunciation was signed by the two spies and sent to the Commune, who
after having placed seals on the possessions of the suspected municipal
officers, decided that a minute investigation should be made at the
Temple.
97 H
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
the Queen that I would see about the mourning she wished
for. " The simplest things," she added.
Returning to the room in which I usually sat, I set to work
to lay this request before the Council in writing. The Queen
came to me and told me she would like the mourning to be
made by a certain sempstress, whose name and address she
gave me ; and the very next day her request was granted. ^
Towards evening I went away, leaving no one with the royal
family but the valet de chambre and his wife.^ I at once went
to Clery, who had moved into one of the rooms in the build-
ing adjoining the Tower of which I have already spoken. He
had been placed there, more or less as a prisoner,^ when he
parted from the King. Him, too, I found weeping bitterly,
and mourning the loss of his good master. What was I to
say in such circumstances ? Greatly embarrassed, I proffered
Clery a few words of consolation and condolence.
Presently someone came to fetch me to supper, and, not
wishing to leave Clery alone, I begged him to come with me,
and persuaded him with much difficulty to do so. He sat
down opposite me at the table and would hardly eat anything.
General Santerre and some of the officers of his staff arrived,
and also came to the table. Santerre began, with miequalled
callousness, to give a detailed account of the execution, without
omitting a single circumstance, not even the fact that he had
ordered the drums to be beaten when the King wished to
speak to the people. He added that as the executioner
seemed to hesitate, he had said to him firmly : " Do your
duty.""
This conversation, which was certainly calculated to distress
anyone of the least sensitiveness who heard it, affected Clery
very considerably. I, therefore, made a sign to him to leave
the table, and he returned at once to his room, whither I
followed him ; and I spent the night with him. Several
times he nearly fainted, and to revive him I employed some
spirits that were there. The only thing I heard him say was
this : " Alas ! my dear, good master might have saved himself
' See the note on p. 115.
^ That is to say, Tison and his wife.
" In the rooms of the Little Tower.
98
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
if he had wished, for in this place the windows are only
fifteen or sixteen feet above the ground. Everything had
been prepared for his escape while he was still here, but he
refused because his family could not be saved with him.i
" There," he added, showing me the book, " is his breviary.
He left it to me, with his watch and several little things."
But Clery seemed to attach the greatest value to the breviary,
which he said he intended to present to the Pope. I do not
know if he carried out this intention.
I left Clery in the morning when I came off guard. A short
time afterwards I returned to the Temple to the princesses,
whom I found still in a state of the deepest sorrow. They
declined to go out into the fresh air, as was proposed to them.
I represented to the Queen that this was necessary for her
health and for that of her family, and especially of the young
princess, who had been unwell for some time. " We do not
wish," answered the Queen, " to pass the door of the place
which my husband left only to die." Then I suggested to
her that they should go up to the top of the Tower, where
there was a circular gallery, and I persuaded her to do this.
I had some seats taken there, and we went up.
The gallery was surrounded by a parapet of about four feet
in height, but barely two feet wide : at the four corners were
little turrets in which the seats had been placed. As soon as
the people of the neighbourhood saw us they collected in the
places whence we could be seen most easily. The young
prince expressed a desire to look over the parapet, and the
Queen begged me to take him in my arms. " Mon Dieu,
madame," I said, " I should be delighted to do as you ask,
' It is not known to what attempt at escape Cl^ry here alludes. No
historian has mentioned the existence of any plot for carrying off the
royal family before the 21st January, 1793. Nevertheless, the following is a
somewhat curious passage from a letter written on the 11th February, 1816,
to the Mar^chal de Richelieu by I'Hoste de Beaulieu de Versigny, formerly a
councillor in the Chambrc des Oom^tes of Paris. ' ' Hearing a rumour that
the King was to be tried, I went to Paris ; I employed the tactics agreed
upon with our chiefs, fifty of us proceeded to the Temple disguised as a
patrol, being provided with the watchword and also the password into the
Tower ; but the lack of numbers obliged us to yield to other patrolling
parties. The attempt failed irretrievably. " This abortive attempt, which
must not be confused with the much earlier one by Batz and de Cortey,
was doubtless the plot to which Cl^ry referred when speaking to
Goret.
99 H 8
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
but the people can see us, and if they were to observe what I
was doing they might make a disturbance." " I did not think
of that," said the Queen ; " you are perfectly right."
The princesses remained on this narrow promenade as long
as they wished, and returned to it every day when the weather
was fine enough. After this I was less often at the Temple,
because many of my friends asked to be sent thither, and so
my turn came round less frequently ; moreover, I was obliged
fairly often to attend the meetings of a Commission concerned
with matters of police and surveillance, of which I was a
member. One thing I noticed up to the very last time I was
with the princesses — that their meals were perhaps less
sumptuous than in the King's time, though there was nothing
lacking. They gave to the young prince the same position
and precedence that they had given to the King. Every-
thing they wanted was procured for them by the man Simon,
of whom several historians of the period have spoken.
This man was a member of the General Council of the
Commune, who had established him permanently in the
Temple to fulfil the functions, more or less, of a factotum, i
He was a wretched shoemaker, uneducated and ignorant, but-
apparently not so ill-disposed as other historians have made
him appear. The princesses summoned him fairly often to
bring them anything they might require. His manner in
their presence was rather free and easy. " What do you wish
for, ladies ? " he would say, and he would then try to do as
they desired. If they asked for something that was not in
the stores of the Temple, he would run out to the shops. I
have heard the Queen say : " We are very fortunate in having
that good M. Simon, who gets us everything we ask for." ^
' Truly this is an unexpected testimonial to the famous cobbler. We
will add to it a note found among the Papers seized in Ohaumette's House,
preserved in the National Archives.
A certain man, who had been wounded on the 10th August and nursed in
the infirmary of the School of Medicine near the Cordeliers, where Simon's
wife is known to have worked as a nurse, wrote to Chaumette to complain
of the surgeon Lafiteau. The following passage is an extract from his
letter :
" There may be some members of this Assembly who know Citoyenne.
Simon. The woman, I mean, whose patriotic zeal and surgical knowledge
have enabled her to cure a number of our brothers in arms, the brave
Marseillais, who were wounded in the affair of the 10th August. Well, this
100
THE NARRATIVE OF GORET
One day, when he had said his wife was ill in the Hotel-
Dieu, the Queen asked for news of her. " She is better,
thank God," he answered, and then added : " It is a pleasure
to see the ladies of the Hotel-Dieu now ; they take great care
of the patients ; I wish you could see them : they are dressed
like my wife now or like you, ladies, neither more nor less."
The princesses seemed to be amused by the naivete of this
man, whom Robespierre, it is said, after he had become
paramount in the government of the Temple, made to behave
abominably towards the young prince.^ Of this I saw nothing,
for by then I had for some time been no longer a member of
the General Council.
worthy woman has done for humanity what we all ought to do. I was
present when she came, about a month ago, to beg the Sieur Lafiteau's
services for one of our companions in arms who was lying in his bed a few
yards away from the College of Surgery, and only required to be bled.
The case was very urgent, but Citizen Lafiteau persistently refused to go
with her, though Oitoyenne Simon offered him a suitable fee. Citoyenne
Simon was quite embarrassed by this reception of her request, and, loaded
with insults, went oflf for another surgeon." — {National Archives, T. 604-5.)
^ See page 49.
101
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF
JACQUES FRANCOIS LEPITRE
(December, 1792 — October, 1793)
Lepitre was born in Paris on the 6th January, 1 764. At the
age of twenty he was a professor of rhetoric at the University
and founded a school in the Rue Saint-Jacques. He was popular
with his neighbours, and it was owing to their good opinion of
him that his name was inscribed among the members of the
Commune of 1789.
After the first federation he gave up this post. He had just
been appointed Professor of Literature in one of the Parisian
colleges, and was still working at his school. These occupations
were enough for him ; he was unable to take part in matters of
public interest. He was, then, unconcerned with the affairs of
the nation till December 2nd, 1792,^ on which date he was
made a member of the provisional Commune. Eight days later
he was chosen by lot to serve in the Temple in the capacity of
warder.
From Lepitre's narrative we may derive a very distinct idea
of himself. He was pretentious, with a weakness for fine
words ; and he despised his colleagues in the Commune, who did
not, like himself, speak Latin in season and out. In a word, he
was an unattractive individual. Physically he was fat, short,
lame, and ugly.
And what part did he play in the plots for the royal family's
escape in which he was concerned .'' None but Jarjayes, the
Queen, or Toulan, could have told. We rather think that Lepitre
was one of those who keep on good terms with all parties and
take care to have friends in every camp. He agreed to plot for
' Paul Gaulot, Un complot sous la Terreur.
102
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
the escape of the prisoners, but he would risk nothing ; and we
may be almost absolutely sure that his vacillation was the
undoing of a scheme that had in it many elements of success.
He played his double game successfully to the end, and kept his
head on his shoulders.
While conspiring in this prudent way he was also interested
in theatrical affairs, and in 1793 his repubUcan play in one act,
La Premiere Requisition, was brought out in the City Theatre.
In 1797 he moved his school from the Rue Saint- Jacques to
the Rue de Saint-Louis (de Turenne) in the Marais. We hear
of him again as a professor of rhetoric in the college at Rouen
in I8I6; and he afterwards occupied the same post in the
College of Versailles, where he died on the 18th Januaiy, 1821.
He was a Knight of the Legion of Honour.
A provisional municipality was established on the 2nd
December, 1792. For more than three months the royal
family had been confined in the Temple ; and it was well
known that they had suffered much at the hands of most of
the members of the Commune, who were charged with their
custody. The worthy citizens of my section induced me to
become a member of this new town-council. They knew
my sentiments, and I willingly consented to fill a post in
which I might be of some use.
My nomination was not contested. I was associated with
two colleagues ^ whose probity was well known, and I am
pleased to do them the justice of saying so.
On arriving at the Council of the Commune my first care
was to scrutinise each one of its component members, some
of whom had succeeded in being re-elected, while others were
attending their first sitting. My scrutiny did not influence
me in their favour. I saw that most of them were place-
hunters, who made no effort to hide their aims when the
forty-eight members of the municipal body were being chosen.
Never was such impudence shown in soliciting votes. As
my only object was to go to the Temple, and as the functions
of the municipal officers entailed fairly frequent absences,
I declined duties that were by no means to my taste, an4
' One of these waa Jaoquotot, who under the Restoration became a
barrister of the Boyal Court of Paris.
103
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
remained unnoticed in the crowd. What a spectacle that
assembly presented ! Men without talent or education,
unable or hardly able to sign their names, came in their
shirt-sleeves and workmen's aprons to don the municipal scarf
and sit in the president's chair. There they regulated the
affairs of a whole nation, for this Commune of Paris soon
placed itself on a level with the Convention, to which it often
dictated laws.
It had been decreed that every evening the members who
were to serve as warders in the Temple should be chosen by
lot. They repaired to their post at once and relieved those
who had preceded them two days previously. On the 9th
December M. Jacquotot and I were elected to go to the
Temple.
I cannot possibly describe my emotion as I entered the
Tower. For a long time I had been haunted by a vision of
this august family, the victims of the most horrible conspir-
acies, bereft of liberty and exposed to every kind of insult.
And now I was about to see a prince whose virtues made him
worthy to be numbered among the best of kings ; his wife,
once the nation's idol ; his pious, tender-hearted sister, the
very model of sisterly heroism ; his son, once the heir-
apparent of a throne that seemed to be immovably fixed, but
now the heir of nothing but his royal parents' misfortimes ;
and finally a young princess who was sharing the sorrows of
her family, without any hope of their coming to an end.
My heart stood still and I could hardly breathe when, at the
drawing of the lots, I found it was my fate to guard the
Queen and the princesses.
It is here necessary to give some details as to the construc-
tion of the Tower, and the duties performed there by the
Commissioners of the Commune.
The Great Tower, into which the royal family had been
removed some time before I came to the Temple, may be
about a hundred and fifty feet high, and is composed of four
storeys, on each of which is a very large room. On the
second and third floors this had been divided into four rooms,
separated by thin partitions. The great walls are about
seven or eight feet thick.
104
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
A certain number of the commissioners were quartered on
the ground floor. On the first floor was a guard-room ; and
the King occupied the second. His room was at the back,
and was the only one with a flreplace ; the furniture was
simple and consisted only of the barest necessaries.
The outer room was devoted to the use of the commis-
sioners on duty, and of the two rooms at the side, one was
used as a dining-room and the other was occupied by Clery,
his Majesty's valet de chamhre.
The third floor was arranged like the second : the outer
room, in which the commissioners sat, did duty as a dining-
room. The room at the back was the Queen's, and in it
Monseigneur le Dauphin and Madame Royale also slept. At
the side were the rooms of Madame Elizabeth and of Tison
and his wife, who were both employed in waiting on the
princesses.
At the corners of the Tower on each floor there was a
turret, in one of which was the staircase, the others being
used for various purposes. The commissioners were on duty
for forty-eight hours ; they arrived at nine o'clock ; then
they had their supper, and decided who was to be on the
second or the third floor by drawing lots. Twenty-four
hours were spent with the prisoners, and twenty-four in the
Council Room. Those who were on duty for the night went
upstairs after supper and remained on guard near the King
or the Queen until the next day at eleven o'clock. After
their dinner they again repaired to their posts till the
arrival of the new commissioners. On the second day they
were again on duty for some hours.
It was nearly midnight when my colleague Jacquotot and
I went upstairs to the Queen's rooms. All was quiet ; even
Tison and his wife were sleeping profoundly. We threw our-
selves on two uncomfortable folding bedsteads, scantily
covered by a mattress that measured about three fingers'
width in thickness. We had nothing to protect us from the
cold but one thin coverlet : we complained bitterly of this
next day, and at least secured the addition of sheets, a great
source of satisfaction to such as cared at all for cleanliness.
We were astir before daybreak. Tison was the first person
105
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
we saw. This crafty, cruel man was able to assume any
expression he chose, and he always tried to win the favour of
any commissioners he met for the first time. Abominable as
his conversation was with those of whose evil disposition he
was assured, he affected a certain amount of kind-heartedness
when speaking to men who seemed to him honest and
sympathetic, and I have myself heard him going into
ecstasies over the charms of the young prince. But, having
been warned as to his character, I hardened my heart against
his insinuating ways ; though, none the less, I fell a victim to
him. His wife modelled herself upon the same pattern, but
the fear her husband inspired in her had more to do with this
than had her natural inclinations. Her depositions against
me and some of my colleagues, however, were no less
disastrous for us on that account.
The functions of these two individuals entailed more or less
discomfort on the royal family according to the character of
the members of the Commune on duty. And yet the gentle-
ness and courtesy with which the Queen and the princesses
asked them for the least thing can hardly be imagined.
At eight o'clock the Queen opened her door and went into
Madame Elizabeth's room. Her keen glance dwelt upon us
for a moment, and it was easy to see that she was trying to
discover the nature of our feehngs with regard to her. We
were decently dressed ; indeed, our appearance was a contrast
to that of most of the Commissioners. The respect that
misfortune claims from us all was plainly written upon our
faces. Madame stood at the door of her room and
scrutinised us for some time, and then both she and Madame
Elizabeth came out to us and asked the name of our section,
observing that this was the first time we had visited the
Temple. During breakfast, at which another commissioner
appeared (for no meal was served except in the presence of a
member of the Council), we remained in the outer room, for
we dared not place any confidence in our colleague.
This was Toulan,^ one of those who showed the greatest
' FranQois Adrien Toulan, born at Toulouse in 1761, was married in
July, 1787, to Franjoise Germaine Dumasbon. Toulan went to Paris after
his marriage and opened a book-shop. Being an enthusiastic supporter of
106
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
zeal in the service of the royal family while they were in the
Temple. I did not know him then, and was far from
appreciating all his merits. Indeed, I had heard him, in the
Commune, indulging in remarks on the prisoners that were,
to say the least, inconsiderate, if not actually disrespectful.
Being a native of Gascony, he had all the natural vivacity of
that part of the country, combined with a great deal of
shrewdness, and as he was entirely fearless he was ready
to brave anything for the sake of being of use ; but he was
clever enough to assume a mask of republicanism, and was
able to serve the royal family all the better for this since he
was not suspected of being attached to them.
When he was gone, I ventured to ask the Queen if she were
really sure of the man with whom I had seen her conversing,
and repeated to her some words of his that had shocked me.
" You need not be anxious," she answered : " I know why he
behaves like that. He is an excellent man." A few days
later Toulan told me the princesses had advised him to find
out what kind of man I was, and to talk matters over with
me if he could do so safely.
When breakfast was over my colleague, seeing a harpsichord
at the entrance to Madame Elizabeth's room, tried to play
a few notes upon it, but it was in such a bad condition that
he was unable to do so. The Queen at once came foward and
said : " I should have been glad to use that instrument, so as
the Revolution, he took part in the events of July 14th and October 6th,
1789, and on the 10th August appeared among the assailants of the palace.
His conduct resulted in his being nominated a member of the Commune ;
and being known for his ardent patriotism and the purity of his republican
principles, he was sent to the Temple as a commissioner. Two days spent
in the company of the prisoners were enough to make him one of their
most devoted partisans ; and indeed, his devotion was to the death.
But how did he make the prisoners aware of his sudden conversion ? How
could he do so without attracting the attention of his colleagues ? This
we do not know and never shall know. But it is certain that the princesses
very soon put the most entire confidence in him. By some means he con-
vinced them so thoroughly of his sincerity and loyalty that they had no
fear of any trap or treason. Madame ^^lizabeth at once informed Turgy
of these facts, and in a note that the latter preserved she told him of the
name the Queen and she had given Toulan : Give this to Toulan, whom
henceforth we shall call FidMe. M. Paul Gaulot, in his Oonvplot sous la
Terreur, has devoted a number of pages to a very complete study of this
interesting character. We refer our readers to it. Here it must suffice
us to say that Toulan paid for his devotion with his head. He was '
guillotined on the 30th June, 1794.
107
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
to go on with my daughter's lessons, but it is impossible to
use it in its present state, and I have not yet succeeded in
getting it tuned." We promised that on that very day we
would send for the person whose name she gave us. We sent
an express messenger, and in the evening the harpsichord was
tuned.^ As we were looking through the small collection of
music that lay upon the instrument we found a piece called
La Rewie de France. " Times are changed ! " said her
Majesty, and we could not restrain our tears.
On the 11th December M. le Dauphin was moved upstairs
to his mother's rooms, but the King was not informed of the
reason for this separation. The Mayor of Paris soon arrived,
with Chaumette, Colombeau the registrar, and some municipal
officers preceded by Santerre and his aides-de-camp. They
had come to take the King before the Convention. Toulan
informed the Queen and her family of his Majesty's departure
and return. I went up to the King's room at eight o'clock in
the evening, when he was having dinner. He was calm, and
conversed for a few minutes with one of the commissioners
whom he knew to be a geographer.
It is well known that Louis XVI. knew more of the science
of geography than many a professor. I left the Temple on
the same day and returned thither on the 15th, when I was
on duty in the King's room from eleven o'clock in the morn-
ing until the evening. Not knowing how to occupy my time
with a colleague who was sullen and taciturn, and was nick-
named the Pagoda by the Queen because he never gave any
answer but a movement of his head, I went into his Majesty's
room and asked his permission to take the works of Virgil
from the chimney-piece. " So you read Latin ? " said the
King. " Yes, Sire," I answered in a low voice,
" Non ego cum Danais Trojanam exscindere gentem
Aulide juravi."
An expressive glance showed me that I had been understood ;
and his Majesty afterwards spoke of me to Clery, who con-
firmed him in the good opinion he had formed of me.
^ " Memorandum of expenses incurred for Louis XVI. in December, 1792.
Supplied: quill-pens, out ready for use; ink; a red morocco portfolio;
some almond paste ; some darning-cotton. Paid to the pianoforte maker
... 106 livres 4 sola."— (Papjers du Temple, by M. de la Morinerie.)
108
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
While I was reading, a deputation from the Convention
brought the papers containing the so-called evidence in the
trial. 1 was not present throughout the whole inquiry. I
went up several times to the Queen's room, and succeeded in
giving her some details of what was taking place. On the
following day I saw the man Mercereau there, a stone-cutter
who, dressed in extremely dirty garments, stretched himself
on the damask sofa generally occupied by the Queen, and
justified his free-and-easy behaviour on the grounds that all
men were equal. One might possibly forgive this person,
who was silly enough and ignorant enough to believe what he
professed ; but when men who boasted of their intelligence
and excellent education were insolent enough to take an arm-
chair before the fire and put their feet upon the fire-dogs in
such a way that it was impossible for the princesses to warm
themselves, who could avoid calling their conduct atrocious,
especially when it was plainly the result of an underhand
combination, formed with the obvious intention of insulting
the unfortunate ?
The disturbed state of the Temple during these two days
prevented me from being with the royal family as long as I
wished, but I knew that at least they were not without means
of acquiring a certain amount of information as to passing
events ; for notes — skilfully delivered either by Toulan or by
a faithful servant^ whose zeal never failed — passed between the
illustrious prisoners and told them all that it was important
for them to know.^ Ever since they had been entirely deprived
of newspapers a street-crier had been hired to shout the head-
lines of his journal in a stentorian voice under the walls of
the Temple..^ He acquitted himself of this duty wonderfully
' M. Turgis (sic), now first huissier de la chambre to Madame la Duohesse
d'AngoulSme. — {Note by Lepitre.)
* Sometimes during the night notes were lowered or drawn up by a
thread through the windows of the second and third floors. — {JVote by
Lepitre. )
' These methods of oommunioating with the outer world were supple-
mented by another, a more curious and more dangerous method. The
friends of the royal family had secured the co-operation of a certain
Madame Launoy, whose little flat was on the third floor of a house in the
Rue de la Corderie. During the night a magic lantern was set up in this
flat, and on a sheet stretched at the back of the room certain signs were
projected. These no doubt were letters of the alphabet, by means of
109
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
well, but his information was necessarily vague, and often
excited the most acute anxiety. It was imperative to find
some means that should be certain and constant, and this we
succeeded in doing by making our visits more frequent.
Among the members of the Commune there were many who
were not in the least anxious to go to the Temple on Friday
or Saturday evening to spend Sunday there, for to men who
were busy all the week the pleasure or rest on that day
seemed too valuable to be sacrificed to the duty of guarding
the royal family in a state of confinement. Toulan and I
were lucky enough to inspire our colleagues with the idea of
entrusting to us, on those days, the duty they found so
unpleasant. I, being a professor in the University of Paris,
was free on Saturday evening and Sunday, and Toulan, who
was the senior clerk in an ofiice, was able to find a substitute
without any difiiculty. In spite of the objections we brought
forward for the look of the thing, we were chosen nearly
every Friday, and with the greatest satisfaction we submitted.
On Christmas Eve, 1792, it was decreed, owing to Chau-
mette, that the midnight mass should not be celebrated. In
vain it was put before him that this step might give rise to a
riot ; that the people were not so philosophical as he, and
still clung to their ancient customs. It was decreed that
municipal officers or members of the Council were to repair to
the various parish churches and suppress any attempt to open
the doors. The result of this was that the members of the
Commune were subjected to insults and blows, the mass was
sung, and Chaumette became more virulent than ever against
religion and the clergy. On the 25th December, when I went
into the Queen's room I had told her of this decree of the
Commune, though I knew nothing of its consequences. In
the evening a colleague of mine, a master builder called
Beugneou, arrived on the scene with a slight wound on his
face, and described to us how the market women had received
him at Saint-Eustache. He laughed over his misadventure.
which words and sentences were formed. From the third floor of the
Temple Tower it was possible to see into Madame Launoy's room, and so
the prisoners were able to benefit by this method of signalling. This, at
least, is what Madame Launoy in her old age recounted to a person who
handed the story on to us.
110
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
He was a good honest fellow, with no idea in his head but
blind obedience, and on this occasion his obedience had been
unfortunate for him.
I had, in accordance with the Queen's orders, supplied her
with two kinds of journals : one being of sound principles and
the other less moderate. As I always wore a large pelisse
over my coat I found it quite easy to take into the Tower
anything for which I was asked, or to bring away anything
that required to be carefully concealed. Every Friday I took
the newspapers in this way to the Queen and Madame Eliza-
beth. They retired into one of the turrets to read them, and
returned them to me a moment before my departure. I also
obtained various books that I thought might interest them,
especially UAmi des Lois, which was at that time creating a
great sensation, and had been the cause of more than one
stormy scene. While the princesses were reading, and when her
Majesty was writing her letters, I remained with Madame and
the Dauphin, which Tison noticed to his great indignation,
and reported more than once to the Commissioners of the
Commune.
It was the time I had to spend in the Council Room that
I foimd the most disagreeable. I often had to endure the
silly jokes of my colleagues on the subject of what they were
pleased to call the friendship of the prisoners for their
obHging guardian. Indeed, I eagerly took upon myself every
duty that gave me a reason for absenting myself.
It was my office to receive the various supplies and the
wine that was brought every day to the Temple. It was
necessary to give a receipt, and there were several honourable
members whom it would have puzzled to write it. I also
accompanied those who carried the meals into the Tower.
At that time the table of the royal family was very well cared
for, a sufficient number of persons being employed in the
pantry and kitchen, most of whom were old servants from the
palace who had begged for their places here. They also pre-
pared the dinner and supper of the commissioners sent by
the Commune. At first these meals were supplied from an eat-
ing-house outside the walls, but they were so bad and at the
same time so expensive that it was decided to secure the
111
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
services of those who were paid to cook for the royal family ;
and no one ever had any reason to repent of this step. It
was, indeed, a stroke of good luck for certain individuals who
were unaccustomed to such good cheer. In order to avoid any
possible injury to the dignity of the municipal oflBce, only
half a bottle of wine was supplied for ten or twelve persons
at the end of each meal ; but the abstinence of some formed
the gain of others, and one evening I saw a tailor called
Lechenard empty the half-bottle at a gulp before going
upstairs to the Queen. His colleague was obliged to put
him to bed, and the next day the state of his bed and of the
floor of his room bore witness to his intemperance. When
the Queen left her room at eight o'clock he was stretched
upon his pallet in a state of semi-unconsciousness, and her
Majesty barely had time to retreat, calling to Madame
Elizabeth, as she did so : " Do not come out of your room,
sister." I heard these details from herself, when I succeeded
this worthy man. We remonstrated with him on his con-
duct ; and later on he took his revenge.
Toulan returned to the Temple alone on the first day of
the year 1793. He it was who acted as a messenger between
Louis XVI. and his wife, sister, and children. About this
time I applied in vain to the President of the Convention,
the late M. Treilhard, to obtain leave, if possible, for the King
and his family to be reunited. I went to M. Tronchet, but
he was so much occupied with Louis XVI.'s defence that he
would see no one. I then wrote him a letter, putting before
him in the Queen's name how ardently this unhappy family
desired to be sometimes with its august head ; but the request
was refused.
As long as the trial went on, whenever I was on duty at
the Temple, it was I who escorted M. de Malesherbes into the
Tower. The second time he came I went to meet him in
the outer court.^ He seemed to be somewhat ill at ease, for
on the previous day he had suffered from the boorish manners
of the commissioner deputed to take him to his Majesty.
He looked at me : I ventured to take his hand, and say to
^ The principal court of the Grand Prior's palace, beyond which car-
riages were unable to pass. (See plan A. )
112
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
him : " Do not be uneasy, monsieur ; non sum unus e multis "
(I am not one of the majority). " It does me good to hear
you say so," answered this estimable old man. " I beg
you will come to meet me whenever you are here." I only
once received the brave Tronchet : on the day that the
Commune sent us a decree to the effect that Louis XVI.'s
counsel were to be stripped and searched from head to foot
with the minutest care, to make sure that they were not
carrying any kind of instruments that might be put to a
wrong use. The purport of this decree made us all very
indignant, for the Council that day was composed of right-
thinking men. We rejected this unseemly measure, to which
M. Tronchet would certainly never have submitted. He
merely emptied his pockets. The decree of the Commune
was repealed. In the first week of January, Toulan and I
had made no secret to the Queen of all the intrigues that
were being set on foot by various scoundrels nor of the power
of the party that supported them. She could not altogether
abandon hope, for she refused to believe that either the French
nation or the foreign Kings would look on at so atrocious a
crime without any attempt to prevent it. She did not know
all that a bold minority was capable of, when it well knew
there was no safety for it save in the death of the King, and
when, having bribed a number of men whose crimes made
them reckless, it was able to overpower a well-intentioned but
timid majority, who had no leaders, no real resources, and
not even a rallying point. I am able to assert positively,
without fear of contradiction, that the day on which Louis
XVI. lost his life was a day of mourning for the majority of
the French nation. But people shed their tears within
their own four walls. They wept over the fate, not only of
an illustrious family, but of the whole of France, and called
down the vengeance of Heaven upon the monsters who had
been the cause of all the trouble ; but out of doors they did
not dare to let their faces reveal their real feelings. It was
feared that a sad, gloomy expression of countenance might
shock the distrustful eye of the villainous party in power, and
that any feeling of regret that was allowed to appear might
become a death-warrant. I was at the meeting of the Com-
113 I
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
mune on the 20th January when there was a demand for
commissioners to accompany the King on the following tragic
day. All the members showed how revolting the idea was to
them. Only two rose eagerly and volunteered for this
appalling duty. These — horrible to relate — were two
priests : Jacques Roux and Pierre Bernard. ^ But what
priests ! One of them, who was for ever preaching murder
and pillage, would have drunk blood with delight : the other,
who was equally cruel and more immoral, was living with a
woman who was not his wife, by whom he had several children.
Both these men perished miserably : the first died bathed in
blood from head to foot ; the other wounded himself with
knives in five places to save himself from death upon the
scaffold. Bernard took real pleasure in flouting the sorrows
of the royal family ; and one evening his remarks were so
outrageous that the princesses, almost immediately after they
had come to the table, were obliged to leave it, to escape
from the horrible conversation of this savage. Jacques Roux
employed another method of disturbing their rest. He sang
all night ; and even Tison's entreaties could not keep him
quiet. ^
We were sent to the Temple a few days after the 21st
January. To ensure our not being separated, Toulan had
devised the following ruse. There were three of us ; and, as
a rule, we drew lots with three pieces of paper, on one of
which was written the word duy, while on two others was the
word night. Toulan wrote day on all three ; and made our
colleague draw his lot ; then, when the latter, being the first
to open his paper, had read the word day, we threw our
papers into the fire without looking at them, and went off
together to our post. As we hardly ever came twice with
the same man this device was always successful.
We found the royal family plunged in the deepest grief
As soon as they saw us the Queen, her sister, and her
children burst into tears. We dared not advance till the
Queen signed to us to go into the room. " You did not
^ See note on p. 95.
^ It was Jacques Roux, too, who refused to take charge of Louis XVI. 's
will, saying with horrible callousness : " I am here to take you to the
scaffold." — {Note, by Lepitre.)
114
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
deceive me," she said. " They have allowed the best of kings
to die." We gave them various papers and journals that we
had brought with us, and they were read with the utmost
eagerness, and often watered with tears. We were closely
questioned, and our answers did but increase the pain and
sorrow of the prisoners.
On the following day it was our task to introduce into the
Temple the sempstress employed to make the mourning
garments,^ although the Commune wished her to do her work
after a simple pattern without taking any measurements.
But we had already shown in a more important matter that
we were not without courage. Madame Royale had for some
time had a sore foot, which had given the Queen a certain
amount of anxiety. Her request that a medical man might
be summoned was acceded to, but this man was to be none
other than the prison surgeon. The Queen refused the
offer, and waited till we came. She told us about the sore
foot, which demanded prompt treatment, and told us, too, of
her extreme repugnance to the idea of consulting the surgeon
whose services were offered to her. Finally, she told us of
her wish to consult M. Brunier, physician to the " Children of
France," and M. La Tasse,^ formerly surgeon to Monseigneur
le Comte d'Artois and the Swiss Guards. She had their
address in a memorandum-book ; we gave it forthwith to a
certain intelligent boy ; and two hours later M. Brunier and
La Tasse arrived.^ We had been obliged to secure the
sanction of the other commissioners ; but the exercise of a
little tact was all that was required in dealing with any of
them who happened to be good fellows. Now, among the
' "Items asked for by the Queen on the 21st January: A mantle of
black taffetas, a black fichu and petticoat, a pair of black silk gloves, two
pairs of kid gloves, two black taffetas nightcaps, a pair of sheets (refused),
a quilted coverlet (refused)."— (De Vyr6, Histoire de Marie Antoinette.)
* La Caze.
3 Report of the commissioners on duty at the Temple, January 26th,
year II. (1793.) Many people made the mistake of dating "year II."
from the 1st January, 1793.) — " Visit from Brunier. Prompt treatment
required by Marie Antoinette's daughter, on one of whose legs a sore place
has appeared. Necessary to call in La Caze, the surgeon. He was
summoned by order. At half -past seven Brunier came again with La Caze.
The other leg is also threatened. Prescriptions sent to Robert, the
prisoners' chemist." — {Papiers du Temple.)
115 I 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
members of the Commune there were several good fellows,
and we made it our business to see that they joined us in our
duties at the Temple. For several months the custom of
drawing lots had been abandoned.
M. Brunier's emotion, on seeing those who were so dear to
him, was very great. It was all he could do to speak. The
sore foot was examined without delay, and a course of treat-
ment prescribed that was carefully carried out. I remember
a particular kind of viper broth that was brought in every
evening by a nice civil lad called Robert. The physician and
surgeon continued their visits without being interfered with,
but they made a rule of preserving absolute silence when they
were not sure of the commissioners who were watching their
proceedings.
Clery, who was stiU in the Temple,^ gave me the table-
cloth that had been used for Louis XVI.'s Communion on the
morning of the 21st January. I took it to Juvisy, and gave
it into the charge of Clery's wife, whom I had met sometimes
in the town when she came to see her husband and bring him
news. She was always accompanied by a friend, who shared
her devotion for the royal family, and more than once ran
into danger in trying to be useful to them.
In the meantime Toulan's mind was not inactive. He
conceived the idea of helping the royal family to escape from
the Temple, and kept me informed of his schemes from the
very first. We met at my house, and with us were M. le
Chevalier de Jar ^ and a clerk from Toulan's office, whose
name, I think, was Guy ,^ a zealous royalist, whose help
was necessary to us, and upon whose fidelity we could rely.
' Cl^ry only left the Tower in February.
^ Francois Augustin R^mi P^lisson de Jarjayes, bom at Grenoble on the
24th October, 1745, had been a colonel on the general staff since 1779. He
had married one of the twelve first women-of-the-bedohamber of the
Queen, Emilie de Laborde. Louis XVI. in 1791 made him a brigadier-
general. On the 10th August Jarjayes stood by the King, whom he
followed to the Feuillants, and it was there that he received a definite
order from the royal family not to leave Paris. — (See Un Complot sous la
Terreur, by Paul Gaulot. )
3 M. Paul Gaulot thinks that Guy was none other than a man called
Ricard, the husband of a cousin of Lepitre. In Uti Complot som la Terreur
there are some interesting details about these minor characters in the
tragedy of the Temple.
116
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
This was the plan we fixed upon for the escape : a plan
whose execution would have been dangerous, but none the
less quite possible.
We had procured some men's clothes for the Queen and
Madame Elizabeth, and we brought them in one by one,
either in our pockets or on our persons, concealed under our
pelisses. We also obtained two wadded cloaks, to hide their
figures from too close a scrutiny, and to make their gait less
noticeable. Moreover, we provided them with two hats
made on purpose for them, and added to them the scarves
and tickets of admission that were used by commissioners of
the Commune.
The diflBculties in the way of removing Madame Royaleand
her brother from the Tower seemed to be greater. But we
thought of a way of doing so. Every evening the man whose
office it was to clean the lamps within the building, as well as
those outside, came to light up the Tower, accompanied by
two children who helped him in his work. He came in at
half-past five, and long before seven o'clock he had left the
Temple.
We examined the clothes of the two children with great
care, and saw that similar ones were prepared for the young
King and his sister. Above a light undergarment were the
dirty trousers and the coarse jacket called a carmagnole ;
thick shoes were added, with an old peruke and a shabby hat
to hide the hair ; while the hands and face were to be in a
proper state to complete the illusion. This disguise was to
be donned in the tiu-ret next the Queen's room, which Tison
and his wife never entered, and we meant to leave the Tower
in the following way.
It was arranged that Toulan was to take advantage of the
Tisons' weakness for Spanish snufF, which he had lavished
upon them while he was in the Temple, and was to give them
some of it at a quarter to seven, mixed with so strong a nar-
cotic that they would instantly fall into a profound sleep,
from which they would not be awakened till seven or eight
hours later, though they would not be in the least injured by
it. This plan, innocent as it was, did not please any of us, but
we had no choice : we should have been obliged to adopt it.
117
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
The Queen was to leave a note behind her, exonerating
these two people ; and then, dressed like a man, with the
municipal scarf round her, was to pass out of the building
escorted by myself. We had nothing to fear from the Temple
guard ; for if we had shown our cards of admission, even from
a distance, the sentries would have been quite satisfied, and
the sight of our scarves would obviate any suspicion. When
we were out of the Temple we should have gone to the Rue
de la Corderie, where M. de Jarj was to wait for us. A few
minutes after seven, when the sentries at the Tower had been
relieved, Guy, the clerk I mentioned before, armed with a card
of admission such as was used by the workmen employed in
the Tower, was to knock at the Queen's door with his tin box
under his arm, and Toulan, scolding him for not seeing to the
lamps himself, was to hand the children over to him. He
would have taken them out with him, and on the way to the
trysting-place would have rid them of their clumsy garments.
Soon, Madame Elizabeth, in a similar disguise to the Queen's,
would have joined us with Toulan, and we should instantly
have started away.
Our arrangements were such that no one could have started
to pursue us until five hours after our departure. We had
made most careful calculations. In the first place, no one in
the Tower ever went upstairs till nine o'clock in the evening,
when the table was laid and the supper served. The Queen
would have asked that supper might be at half-past nine that
evening. To knock repeatedly, feeling more and more sur-
prised that the door was not opened ; to question the sentinel,
who, having been relieved at nine o'clock, would know nothing
of what had occurred ; to go down to the Council Room and
inform the other members of the strange circumstances ; to go
upstairs again with them and knock anew, and summon the
sentries who had gone off^ guard and obtain vague information
from them ; to send for a locksmith to open the doors, the
keys of which we should have left inside ; to get them opened
at last with the greatest difiiculty, for one of these doors was
of oak and was covered with large nails, and the other was of
iron, and both of them had locks that entailed considerable
excavations in the solid wall if they were not turned in the
118
THE RECOLLECTIOKS OF LEPITRE
usual way ; to look into all the rooms and turrets ; to shake
Tison and his wife violently without succeeding in waking
them ; to go down again to the Council Room ; to draw up a
report and take it to the Coxmcil of the Commune, which,
even if it had not broken up, would have lost time in fruitless
discussions ; to send messengers to the police and the Mayor,
and to the committees of the Convention, asking what mea-
sures should be taken : — aU these things would have caused so
much delay as to give us a chance of escaping successfully.
Our passports would have been perfectly correct, for I was
then president of the committee, and should have drawn them
up myself. We should therefore have had no anxiety on the
journey as long as the distance between us and our pursuers
remained undiminished.^
We had discussed this project on several occasions. On
one essential point opinions were divided. The Queen wished
us to travel separately, but at a short distance from each
other. She wished us to have three cabriolets, in one of which
she would have been with her son and M. de Jar — , while
Toulan was with Madame Elizabeth, and I with Madame
Royale. I combated this idea for a long time, pointing out
that three carriages would be more noticeable than one in the
little towns or villages through which we passed, and that if
an accident should happen to one of them the two others
would be obHged to wait and would rouse suspicion. If on
the other hand they continued their journey there might be
some fear of their losing the way, or the delay might lead one
party into danger and expose the others to regrets that would
be more terrible even than the danger. But the Queen met
this by saying that a berline laden with six people (for Toulan
would have hurried forward on horseback), and drawn by six
' It was in 1817 that Lepitre wrote so enthusiastically of the details in
the plan of escape ; but he omits to say that in 1793 he was much colder
and more calculating in hia view of the affair. It was his pusillanimity
/-that wrecked the plot : he refused to supply passports, although he was the
■^president of the commission that provided them. We must add, too, that
Lepitre, who poses here as a hero, had insisted that the Queen should
secure him against the material loss that would result to him from the
escape of the prisoners. In a word, he expected to be paid, and Jarjayes
•lindertook to satisfy him out of the remnants of his own fortune, which
was already much impaired.
119
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
horses, woiild be no less noticeable ; and that, since we should
be obliged to change horses at every posting-house, we should
be exposed to the curiosity of the inhabitants and still more
to the indiscretion of the postillions. She pointed to the
unlucky expedition to Varennes undertaken in very diiferent
circumstances. Three light carriages would only require one
horse apiece, and we should surely be able to find suitable
relays at various points of our journey without having recourse
to posting-houses. In this way we should secure better
horses, and should have to change them less often. Every-
thing— economy of time, greater security, and the possibility
of our all travelling in two carriages in case of an accident —
seemed to point to the adoption of the plan proposed by the
Queen. Being alone in my opinion, I yielded to the majority ;
but I confess it was with much trepidation that I thought
of the moment when the sacred charge for which I was
to be responsible should be confided to my care. I should
have been almost ready to say, like iEneas when he fled
from Troy :
" Et moi qui tant de fois avait vu sans terreur
Et les bataillons greos et le glaive homicide,
Une ombre m'6pouvante, un souffle m'intimide ;
Je n'ose reapirer, je tremble au moindre bruit,
Et pour ce que je porte et pour oe qui me suit."
(Delille's translation of Virgil. )
It was not till the end of February that the goal of our
journey was determined upon. La Vendee was now in revolt,
and we might have found a refuge there. This was thought
of at first, but the distance seemed too great and the
difficulties too numerous. It seemed easier to reach the coast
of Normandy, and to secure some means of crossing to
England. M. Jarj undertook to provide for everything.
We could count entirely upon his ability and his unwearied
zeal ; he had money enough for the journey ; and in whatever
direction the royal family had chosen to travel they would
have found the love and courage of more than one faithful
subject ready to facilitate their escape by every necessary
means.
It may easily be imagined that this scheme demanded
120
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
various modifications. But nevertheless it was suflBciently
well thought out to give rise to hopes of success.
All was arranged for the carrying out of this plan in the
early days of March, when a rising, purposely organised,
resulted in the Parisian merchants being robbed of their
sugar and coffee, and led to the passing of a motiveless
decree, to the effect that the barriers were to be closed and
passports were to be suspended.^ We returned to the Temple
dismayed by this measure, but quite resolved to take advan-
tage of the first favourable moment.
I have said nothing of the song composed for the young
King, after the death of his august father. Madame Clery,
who was a skilful performer on the harpsichord and harp,
wrote the music for it. I took it to the Temple and pre-
sented it to the Queen ; and when I returned a week later
her Majesty took me into Madame Elizabeth's room, where
the young prince sang the song to Madame Royale's accom-
paniment. Our eyes filled with tears, and for a long time we
stood there sadly, without speaking. Here are the verses —
but the scene is indescribable.
The daughter of Louis XVI. sat at the harpsichord, and
beside her was her mother with her son in her arms, trying,
in spite of the tears that streamed from her eyes, to direct
her children's playing and singing. Madame Elizabeth stood
beside her sister and mingled her sighs with the sad tones of
her royal nephew's voice. Never will this picture be effaced
from my memory.
La Pibte FiLiAiE.
Et quoi ! tu pleureS) 6 ma m^re !
Dans tes regards fix^s sur raoi
Se peignent I'amour et I'effroi ;
J'y vois ton ^me tout enti^re.
Des maux que ton flls k soufferts,
Pourquoi te retraoer I'image ?
Lorsque ma m^re les partage,
Puis-je me plaindre de mes fers ?
' This is not true. The barriers were not closed, and the commission
that provided passports was merely warned to be circumspect in supplying
them. A few lines further back Lepitre makes another mistake. It was
not at the end of February, but only on the 10th March that the first out-
breaks occurred in Brittany and La Vendue, and the news only reached
Paris about the 17th.
121
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Des fers ! 6 Louis, ton courage
Les ennoblifc en les portant.
Ton fils n'a plus, en oet instant.
Que tes vertus pour heritage.
Tr6ne, palais, pouvoir, grandeur.
Tout a f ui pour moi Bur la terre ;
Mais je suis auprSs de ma m^re,
Je connais encore le bonheur.
Un jour, peut-^tre .... I'esp^rauce
Doit 6tre permise au malheur ;
Un jour, en faisant son bonheur,
Je me vengerai de la France.
Un Dieu favorable k ton fils
Bient6t calmera la tempSte ;
L'Orage qui courbe leur t^te
Ne d^truira jamais les Lys.
H^las ! si du poids de nos chatnes
Le ciel daigne nous a£Eranchir,
Nos coaurs doubleront leur plaisir
Par le souvenir de nos peines.
Ton fils, plus heureux qu'aujourd'hui,
Saura, dissipant tes alarmes,
Efiacer la trace des larmes
Qu'en ces lieux tu versas pour lui.
A Madame JIlizabeth.
Et toi, dont les soins, la tendresse
Ont adouci tant de malheurs,
Ta rteompense est dans les ccBurs
Que tu formas k la Sagesse.
Ah ! Souviens-toi des derniers voeux
Qu'en mourant exprima ton ivkre !
Beste toujours prSs de ma mire,
Et ses enfants en auront deux.^
It was on the 7th March that I received from the royal
family a most precious reward for my zeal and devotion.
The Queen and Madame Elizabeth were good enough to cut
off little locks of their hair, which they gave me, together
with some of Madame's and of the young prince's. The same
favoiu-had been granted to Toulan, who had the hair arranged
^ Another royalist song, composed before Louis XVI. 's death, had an
enormous success, "a European vogue," during the early days of 1793.
Everyone knows the verses : " O mon peuple . . . que vous ai-je done
fait ? " that were sung to the air of Pauvre Jacques. This song was seen
by the King, who derived some temporary consolation from it during his
last days, and perhaps some encouragement in his last illusions. For a
long time it was attributed to Ulpien Hennet, son of the last provost of
Maubeuge, but it was really by his brother, a captain in the Engineers and
an imigri. — (Z. Pierart, Eecherehee historiques sur Maubeuge, 18S1.)
122
MADAME ISLIZAEETH.
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
in a device of sheaves, upon a box. One of the sheaves was
reversed, the four others upright, and with them was this
motto : Tutto per loro — " All for them."
I had a ring made for myself, in which the hair of each
person was arranged separately. It has upon it this motto,
which was suggested to me by her Majesty : Poco ama cKil
morir teme — " He loves little who fears to die." At the back
are these words : The hair enclosed in this ring was given on
the 1th March, '93, to J.-Fr. Lepitre by the w^e, the children,
and the sister of Louis de Bmcrbon, King of France.^ A
gold plate, which may be raised at will, covers the inscrip-
tion.
I have worn this ring constantly, and it is the only
ornament that has ever been upon my finger. What diamond
could be so precious ? I had already received from Madame
Elizabeth another present, which I have always kept
religiously. With a view to facilitating the interchange of
messages, and at the same time supplying them with some
occupation, the princesses had asked us for knitting-needles
and balls of cotton. The latter might serve as hiding-places
for notes, as similar balls had served previously, when the
princesses were in the habit of doing embroidery. The latter
kind of needlework had been forbidden to them, on the
ground that their embroidery designs concealed a correspon-
dence in hieroglyphics. Follies of this kind provoke a
pitying smile.
We had faithfully promised to grant this request for
cotton and needles, but that evening our minds were full of
many important matters of various kinds, and our conversa-
tion had been so interesting, that in our elation and happiness
at having spent more than five hours with the princesses
without being interrupted by any intruders, and at being
granted, when we left them, the honour of kissing the young
King, we entirely forgot our promises, and left the Temple
without mentioning the subject to those of our colleagues
who were remaining there.
^ The actual inscription was as follows : Les cheveux renferm4s dans cette
hobgue ont Ui donnds, le 7 m. 93, A /. -Fr. Lep. par I'ip. lea enf. et la S. de L.
de B., Roi de Fr. — (Trandalor's note.)
123
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
When, in the course of the foUowmg week, we went up to
the Queen's room, what was our surprise when the princesses
came forward to greet us with a stiff kind of manner that we
had never seen in them before, and thanked us ironically for
having been so energetic in keeping our word to them !
We were racking our brains to understand them, when
they held out their hands, which they had been hiding behind
their backs, and showed us the knitting on which they were
employed. "Ah, messieurs,'" said Madame Elizabeth, "so
you really wish to condemn us to miserable inactivity ! But
everyone is not like you, and worthy M. Paffe (a hosier and
municipal officer) has been more obliging than you." And it
was true that this good fellow, in accordance with the
princesses' request, had sent to his shop for knitting
materials, and we found the cotton and needles figuring in
the Temple registers. We were profuse in our excuses and
were forgiven.
Madame Elizabeth had begun to knit what she called a
stocking : but when she asked my advice about her work I
could not suppress a smile in view of the size of this so-called
stocking. I told her it was probably a cap that she had
meant to make. " Very well, then, a cap it is ! " she answered,
" and it shall be for you." She finished it the same day and
gave it to me just as we were going away, with strict injunc-
tions to give to the poor the sum that a cap would be likely
to cost at that time. I obeyed scrupulously, and it cost me
the modest sum of 10 francs in assignats.
This shows how the princess, even in her jokes, found a
means of influencing others to do good. I have never seen a
character in which the highest degree of genuine piety was
combined with so much gentleness. Her tenderness for the
children of her august brother was the tenderness of a mother.
AVhat efforts she made to help the Queen in educating the
young prince and Madame! For in spite of the lack of
necessary aids, their education was not neglected and the
resources of the two princesses were such that they were
able to a great extent to supply the lack of external means.
Not a moment was ever wasted : even games were turned to
good account. It was impossible not to be touched by the
124.
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
sight of the young King — barely eight years old — bending
over his little table, reading the History of France with the
greatest attention, then repeating what he had read, and
listening eagerly to the observations of his mother or aunt.
The most savage among the commissioners could not alto-
gether restrain their emotion, though it is true they reproached
themselves for it later on.
The month of March was slipping by, and yet we had not
been sent to the Temple. We noticed in the Council that
we were regarded with ill-concealed distrust ; and it was made
plain to us by half-uttered rumours and vague suggestions
that we had better be on our guard, Toulan's imprudence
had roused suspicion. He had shown to two clerks in his
ofiBce a gold box, which he said had been given to him by the
Queen. I do not know if he had actually been given a gold
box : I never saw it ; and he only once mentioned it to me ;
but what is quite certain is this : that the two clerks denounced
him to Hebert, and that the latter took no notice of the
denunciation at the time, but that it ultimately led to Toulan
being condemned to death.
I, too, had drawn suspicion upon myself by a word that I
had let drop, and that one of my colleagues had observed. I
was with the royal family on the roof of the Tower, where
they were sometimes allowed to sit. I had lifted the young
prince in my arms that he might see the streets in the neigh-
bourhood of the Temple, where a number of people had
collected and were gazing at the Tower. In the garden were
the sentries, whose outward appearance gave every indication
of misery and destitution. It was very cold, and I could not
help saying : " How can they allow the poor sansculottes to
be exposed like that to the inclemencies of the weather .' "
Samsculottes was at that time the popular name for such
people, but I was accused of using it disdainfully, though I
can swear I had merely given expression to a feeling of
genuine pity. It was said that the Queen, grasping my
meaning, had looked at them contemptuously and vindic-
tively. Finally, I was threatened with a denunciation to the
Commune. I was not, however, publicly accused, for the
Sieur Landr — did not carry out his threat; but I saw
125
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
very plainly that the story was known and I was looked at
askance.
Well, on the 16th March we returned to the Temple.
We made nearly all the necessary arrangements, but we
adjourned the execution of our project till our next visit,
though we had no idea when that might occur. Suddenly,
on the 26th, when the commissioners to the Temple were
about to be chosen, a man called Arthur rose to speak, and
demanded that, in accordance with the old regulation, certain
members whom he would name should be dealt with by the
scrutm epuratoire?-
"This measure," he cried, "is all the more necessary
because you have in your midst members who are betraying
you. I denounce in particular L. and Toulan : no sooner do
these commissioners arrive at the Tower than, without caring
to sup with their colleagues, they hurry up to Marie Antoin-
ette. I have seen L. conversing mysteriously with her ; and
when he saw me he betrayed himself by the flush that over-
spread his face. Yes, L. is a false friend,'" went on Lechenard,
the tailor of whom I have spoken before ; " he is the favovuite
of the prisoners ; whereas they smile at him and make him
civil speeches, they hardly look at me, the poor republican."
As for Toulan, he was chiefly accused of taking pains to make
the Queen and her family laugh, by jokes that were degrad-
ing to the dignity of a magistrate who represented the
people.
I was much afraid there might be some allusion to the
gold box, and to my reflection on the Temple sentries ; but
nothing was said on the subject, and our courage rose.
Toulan defended himself by joking about his jokes, and
ended by saying resolutely that he was not the judge of the
prisoners confided to his care, and that his business was
merely to do his duty to the best of his ability, without
trying to torment them. I confined myself to denying the
truth of the alleged facts, adding that I was far from deserving
the smile and civilities that Citizen Lechenard took so greatly
to heart, but that nevertheless I did not think it necessary,
1 The procedure for getting rid of undesirable members. — (Tranglator's
note.)
126
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
in the fulfilment of my duties, to exhibit a repulsive coarse-
ness that was foreign to my habits and to my character.
Hubert, while admitting the futility of these denunciations,
complained of the indiscretion of the members who were
unable to defend themselves against the arts of " that
family," and gave them information that they ought not to
have. He demanded the scrutin epuratoire, and asked that
our names might be struck off the list of those who were to
be sent to the Temple.
The day after I was thus denounced for the first time I went
to see La Chaste Suzanne at the Vaudeville Theatre. It is
well known that this play gave rise to various scenes of
violence, by its thinly-veiled allusions, and that, though it
was approved of by people of sound views, it was furiously
attacked by the Jacobins.^ In this play occurred the words
that had already been uttered in the rostrum of the Con-
vention : ^ " You are the prosecutors ; you cannot be the
judge."
Everyone wanted to see La Chaste Suzanne, and I had great
difficulty in securing a place in the pit-boxes. In front of
me were two well-dressed ladies, with their husbands sitting
behind them.
They paid no attention to me, and expressed their opinion
without restraint during the performance of the new play.
All went well until the interval between the acts ; but then a
man in the pit looked into the box and said, in a fairly loud
voice : " There is a municipal officer in that box."
I saw the four people in front of me grow pale. The
women, especially, seemed on the point of fainting.
It was impossible for them to leave the box.
As they recalled their conversation they had visions of
themselves being arrested, imprisoned, and perhaps denounced.
' La Chaste Suzanne was not the only play that created scenes of this
kind. In the Thidtre du Lycie the story of Marie Antoinette and her
son, and their imprisonment in the Temple, was put on the boards as a
drama entitled Adde de Sacy. The Temple Tower was represented in
such a way that no one could fail to recognise it, and the climax of the
play was not merely the escape of the prisoners, but their victory over
their enemies. — (See Louis Blanc, Hiatoire de la Revolution, Book X.,
chap. vii. )
^ By M. Lanjuinais. — (Note by Lepitre.)
1^7
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
I hastened to calm their fears. " Do not disturb yourselves,
mesdames," I said to them ; " there are men in the municipal
body who think as you do, and I am of their number. Have
you read the paper this morning ? " " Yes, monsieur." " Well,
I am one of the two members of the Commune who were
denounced yesterday for their conduct at the Temple." At
these words their courage partly returned ; we entered into
conversation, and I found that their sentiments were abso-
lutely in accord with mine. They confessed to me that they
would never have expected to find a member of the Commune
in a velvet coat, and that, when I was recognised, they had
thought themselves in real danger. It is certain that Chau-
mette, or anyone of that stamp, would not have wasted
so fine an opportunity.
We were waiting, Toulan and I, for the Council to forget
our misadventure. On Easter Day, as there were only a few
members present, and these seemed not at all anxious to be
shut up in the Temple, we got one of our colleagues to propose
us. We had been accepted, and were actually preparing to
start, when the cruel Lechenard arrived on the scene and had
our nomination rescinded. We saw that hope was entirely fled.
A permanent municipality was about to be established.
Toulan had not been re-elected; and although I had been
nominated, it was decided that my election was to depend on
the scrutm ipuratoire of the forty-eight sections, and I was
rejected by thirty-two. It was in vain that the people of my
own section persisted in their choice, in vain that they posted
placards in Paris to vindicate the three members they had
chosen and supported ; there was nothing for it but to yield,
lest we should be involved in a dangerous struggle that would
only end upon the scaffold. I had already resolved to quit
my useless office when a fresh storm broke over Toulan's head
and mine. There were indeed three or four municipal officers
involved in the aifair.
Some commissioners from the Commune had gone to the
Temple and instituted a minute inquiry there. By their
threats they had frightened Tison's wife into confirming her
husband's depositions, and she declared us to be agents of the
royal family. " Through us they were informed of all that
128
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
took place ; we supplied them with newspapers ; we facilitated
their correspondence by bringing them letters and taking
charge of the answers ; we were constantly in the Queen's
room, sitting with the prisoners and conversing freely with
them.'" In short she told everything she could possibly have
seen, and everjrthing she suspected.
I was not present when the depositions were read aloud to
the Commune.i On the following day at ten o'clock, when
I was going out with my pupils, a woman stopped me, stared
at me in surprise, and seemed hardly to believe her eyes.
"What!" she said, "you are still at liberty! But yes-
terday evening, at eleven o'clock, an order was made out to
arrest you and put seals on your property. I was present
when you were denounced to the Commune. Take advantage
of my warning, and see to your affairs." I returned home at
once and burnt my notes, and more particularly my song, for
I was sxn"e I should be arrested very shortly.
At midday the commissioner of police arrived at my
house, sealed up my papers, and retired without ordering me
to follow him, or mentioning the warrant for my arrest.
The next day I heard the street-criers shouting out that
I was confined in the Abbaye with my accomplices, and that
we were soon to be tried. One of these criers, whose news-
paper I bought, had the effrontery to maintain to my face
1 Sitting of the Commune of April 20, 1793. — "Louis Roux read a
document which had been drawn up in the Temple in the presence of the
Mayor, the Procuremr of the Commune, and the commissioners on duty,
and contained two depositions, one by Tison, employed in the Temple,
and the other by Anne Victoire Baudet, wife of Tison, also employed in
the Temple. It follows from these two depositions that certain members
of the Council, Toulan, Lepitre, Brunod, Moelle, and Vincent, the doctor,
and the building contractor at the Temple, are suspected of having had
secret conferences with the prisoners of the Temple, of supplying them with
sealing-wax, wafers, pencils, and paper, and finally of having assisted in
the carrying-on of secret correspondence." — {Moniteiir of April 23, 1793.)
Another report, of the 29th April, mentions that "sealing-wax, wafers,
and a pencil were discovered on the 20th in the possession of the
prisoners : an indication that they were carrying on correspondence with
the outer world. Property of the accused, and of Brunier, Temple
physician, placed under seal. Warrant issued against Citoyenne S^rent,
formerly lady of the bedchamber to Elizabeth. Elizabeth's room searched.
The officer charged with the carrying-out of criminal judgments, and the
hatter Dumont, questioned with regard to a hat found in a box belonging
to Louis Capet's sister." — (See Popiers du Terryple, by M. de la Morinerie;
Nouvdle Revue, 1st April, 1884. )
129 K
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
that this was true, and that the L. in question must be in
prison, since the fact was stated in black and white.
I wrote to the Procweur of the Commune, begging him
to forbid the journalists to incarcerate people on their own
authority.
A short time after denouncing us the woman Tison went
off her head. She went into the Queen's room, they say, and,
kneeling before her, implored her forgiveness for having basely
slandered her and for having caused the downfall of blameless
men, whom she, Madame Tison, had been forced to denounce.
The Queen in vain sought to calm her ; the wretched woman
was quite mad, and was removed to an asylum, where she
shortly afterwards died.^
It was at this time that the Commune of Paris, prompted
by the Committee of the Convention, drew up an address
demanding the trial of the deputies from the Gironde and
of several others. This address was drawn up in secret, and,
without any notice being given, the attendance-sheet was
replaced on the table by another sheet of paper with the
following heading : Names of those who subscribe to the
Address against the Girondists, etc. Being rather late in
arriving at the Council, I wrote my signature on this sheet
of paper without looking at the heading ; but being told of
the facts by my neighbour I left my seat at once and scratched
out my signatxrre. On the following day the list was read,
and an erased name was found.
After a long examination it was discovered to be mine.
Great excitement and much abuse followed. Having been
told of the affair, I wrote on the following day to the Council
to state my reasons, saying that it was against my principles
to subscribe to addresses of that kind, especially when I knew
nothing about them.
This letter gave rise to the most violent discussions, and
one of the substitutes of the Procureur of the Commune, who
quite recently played rather an important role,^ censured me
as a coward and a liar. Yet it must be confessed that it
required some courage to stand alone, and refuse to behave
like everyone else ; and I had told the exact truth.
1 She did not die there (see note, p. 74). ^ Pierre Franyois Real,
130
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
From that moment I returned no more to the Council.
The seals were removed from my papers, and I was given a
certificate to the effect that nothing suspicious had been found
in my house.
I lived quietly enough till the time when the Queen was
removed from the Temple. I foresaw the fresh crime that
the scoundrels were meditating, and did not hide from myself
that I had good reason to fear on my own account. I knew
too how great was the difference between the way the Temple
prisoners were treated now and the way they had been
treated in our time ; the coarse food that had replaced their
former meals ; the condition to which they were reduced,
having no one to wait upon them ! Everything I heard made
my heart ache, and I was destined to suffer worse things yet.
On the 7th 'October, while I was having supper with my
wife, I said to her : " If I were to be put in prison I should
try to be taken to Sainte Pelagic, for there at all events I
should find people I knew, and should be less bored than in
any other prison." What was my surprise when at six
o'clock on the morning of the 8th I heard a knock at my
door, and a member of the revolutionary committee informed
me that his orders were to take me to Sainte Pelagic, where
I was to be m close confinement ! The last clause was not at
all to my taste. All my possessions were sealed up and then
I was taken off to my destination in a carriage. I was to be
cut off from everyone both within and without the prison :
and to be allowed neither letters nor papers. What a
situation to be placed in ! But it is not every gaoler who is
incorruptible, when it is possible to yield without any real
failure in duty ; and mine looked as if he would be quite
willing to be bribed, for I have a shewd suspicion, judging
from the sequel, that his orders were not as severe as they
seemed, and that my worthy friend, while boasting of his
good nature, knew very well that it would do him no harm.
I occupied a cell that measured six feet in width, by seven in
length, for which I paid twenty-five francs a month. My
furniture comprised my bed, — which had been brought here
by my orders, — a table and a chair. I gave ten francs a
month to the man who looked after my room. Not even the
131 K 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
smallest service was gratuitous. My breakfast and dinner
were brought to me from my own house.
My servant bribed the gaoler downstairs, and I bribed him
upstairs. The excellent creature was thus paid twice over.
In return, he saw that I received everything that was sent to
me ; newspapers, under the vine leaves that covered my
basket ; letters, in the body of a cold chicken, or in a pie, or
in my linen. From time to time I wrung some information
out of him. He was especially communicative under the
influence of my wine.
He told me which were the best-known prisoners, and
which were the spies I ought to distrust. Sometimes he let
me out for five or six minutes into the corridors, where I met
old friends imprisoned as "suspects." Indeed, I owed him
an endless number of small obligations, which mitigated the
discomforts of my position. From my narrow window I
could see Mesdames Rancourt, Fleury, Joly, Petit, Lachas-
saigne, Suin, and Devienne, actresses from the Thedtre
Francais, who were allowed the precious privilege of walking
about in the garden.
On the 14th October I was summoned as a witness in the
Queen's trial. Verily that was a day of mourning, and a day
of iniquity ! I was present during that horrible enquiry, or
rather that scene of perfidy and villainy. With what grand
dignity, and with what an air of calm nobility, the wife of
Louis XVI. gave her answers ! The faces of all the spectators
who had any good feeling were full of sadness, but there
was fury in the eyes of a crowd of men and women who had
been brought to the hall purposely ; though more than once
this fury yielded for the moment to pity and admiration.
The prosecutors and judges did not at all succeed in hiding
the rage that inspired them, and the irrepressible confusion
with which the Queen's noble firmness covered them. The
indictment was a mere tissue of absurdities and calumnies.
Hebert's horrible imputation made me shudder. Everyone
was scandalised by this monster's effrontery ; and everyone's
heart was profoundly touched by those sublime words of the
insulted mother : " I appeal to every mother here : is there
one of them who believes in the possibility of such a crime.?"
132
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE
There was absolutely nothing in the depositions of the
witnesses, who were called in great numbers with a view to
concealing their futility. We figured in the affair as having
been corrupted by the Queen's promises, and having conspired
with her against the security of the State. We were in-
formed that we should shortly suffer the same fate. This noble
Princess must have died in the sad certainty that we should
not survive her.
When the court temporarily rose we went down to the
porter's lodge. I found M. Bailly there, in a state of great
depression. We spoke little, for we were observed. In a
corner of the office sat Manuel, with a pale face and a
gloomy expression, saying nothing to anyone. He was
evidently a prey to remorse. I was confronted with the
Queen somewhat late, and the questions put to me were
insignificant. I confined myself to negatives, and the Queen
did the same.
I was shown some coins, and the portraits in miniature of
two princesses who had been friends of the Queen. I
professed not to recognise them though her Majesty had
shown them to me several times. Great stress was laid upon
om- secret conferences, and upon the fact that a man had been
hired to cry the news in the streets. I denied everything,
and this interrogatory, which lasted for twelve minutes, was
deemed sufficient. I was taken back to Sainte Pelagic, to
wait till the evidence for our trial was prepared.
The end of Lepitre's Recollections has no relation to the
imprisonment of Marie Antoinette. On the 8th November he
was tried, together with eight other municipal officers who were
all accused of having an understanding with the Widow Capet.
But the man who was most guilty, Rougeville, had fled. Toulan
also had escaped and was living at Bordeaux under a false
name ; it was not till later that he was taken and condemned
to death. As a matter of fact the Commune of Paris did not
at all like the probity and civic virtue of its members to be
called in question before the revolutionary tribunal: and for
these reasons, combined with others, perhaps, the accused were
acquitted, with the exception of Michonis, who was condemned
to remain in prison till the peace, and was executed later.
133
EXTRACTS FROM
THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE^
MBMBBK OF THE COMMDNB
It was on the 5th December, 1792, that I went to the
Temple for the first time, as a commissioner from the Com-
mune. I had just been nominated a member of the provi-
sional municipality, which replaced that of August 10th. I
arrived at the Temple with three other commissioners a
little after ten o'clock in the evening, and was to be relieved,
with them, two days later, at the same hour. The
General Council of the Commune nominated, during its
evening sitting, the members upon whom this duty was to
devolve, and renewed them every evening, four at a time.
At this time they were eight in number, of whom two,
chosen by lot, were attached, one to the King's room and
one to that of the princesses. They remained there for
twenty-four hours, beginning from the day of their arrival. A
few days later their number in each room was doubled.^ On
the following day they formed part of the Temple Council,
which was composed of the surplus of the commissioners
on duty.
This Council was responsible for all active measures that
were adopted, as well as for the custody of the prisoners.
' Moelle (Claud Antoine Francois) was a clerk in the Oaisse (^Escompte,
No. 498, Rue de Buffaut. {N'ational Almanack, 1793. )
He was arrested at the same time as Lepitre, Miohonis, t)ang6, &c. , and
accused, as they were, of having an understanding with the Widow Capet.
Moelle was acquitted on the 19th November, 1793.
' It is quite true that the new municipality doubled the prisoners'
guard on December 1 1th. The Council Room of the Temple was at the same
time transferred to the ground floor of the Tower, and many additional
precautions were taken. These measures were on account of the King's
trial. {See Papiera du Temple.)
134
THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE
These measures were entered daily in a register, in the form
of resolutions, and the entries signed by all the commissioners.
Everything connected with the requests of the royal family,
which were always made in writing, was also signed by Clery.
With this same Council were deposited the keys of the seven
barriers between the foot of the stairs of the Great Tower
and the platform at the top, as well as those of the outer
doors of the various rooms, which were never opened for the
convenience of the prisoners or their servants, except when
the commissioners on duty gave a signal by means of a bell
that rang in the Council Room.
Members of this Council, moreover, entered the dining-
room with every meal. The meals were prepared in the old
kitchens of the Grand Priory,^ and all their ingredients were
subjected to the most rigorous tests. Three men-servants,
called Turgy, Chretien and Marchand, were charged with
carrying the food to the Tower, and they waited in the outer
room tiU the end of the meal, the remains of which were
appropriated by Clery, and by a man and his wife called
Tison, who ate together after the King's death. Before that
Clery had shared the meals of the commissioners. Everything
was taken back to the kitchens with similar precautions, after
having being examined by the commissioners, who were
particularly careful in scrutinising the table-linen, and every-
thing that had been used by the royal family. The men-
servants were also expected, under the supervision of the
commissioners, to carry the wood for the King's fire and
those of the princesses from the left-hand turret where it
was stored, which opened into the dining-room, to the room
occupied by Tison and his wife. These two were employed
in waiting on the princesses; but at the same time they spied
upon everyone that approached the royal family, even upon
the commissioners, some of whom they denounced, as will be
seen in the course of this narrative.^
' (See Plan A. 6.)
^ Having been on guard at the Temple at the beginning of September,
1792, and posted as a sentry in the little Tower, on the storey occupied by the
King, I had been able, prompted by my desire to be useful to the royal
famihf, to notice the arrangements of the place very carefully, and even to
ask Tison a few questions. He remembered this when he saw me a|Ppear
at the Temple as a municipal officer. Since then I have learnt from Cl^ry,
135
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Such was the established routine while I was at the
Temple.
When I arrived there on the 5th December, the Commune
had not as yet decreed that two commissioners should be on
guard on each floor, and I was chosen by lot to be attached
to His Majesty. The King had gone to bed, and a folding-
bed was arranged for me across the door of his room. I
spent the night in a state of the liveliest agitation, due
to mingled sensations of alarm, sympathy, and respect;
and so, when Clery came in at about half-past six in the
morning to go to His Majesty's room he found me ready
to foUow him.
Beside the King's bed was the imcurtained one of M. le
Dauphin, whom our entrance did not awake. The King
drew his curtain, and his first glance rested on me. As this
was the first time he had seen me, and as, moreover, the
Commune had just been re-constituted, it was natural that
I should be of some interest to His Majesty. While this
silent by-play was going on Clery lit the fire. When the
King rose he threw a dressing-gown round him ; he sat on
the edge of the bed while his shoes and stockings were put
on ; and he shaved himself. Clery completed his toilet for
him,^ and then dressed M. le Dauphin, who from the moment
he awoke and throughout the process of dressing was full of
the gaiety and playfulness that is so charming in children,
which he possessed to a special degree. The King smiled
sadly, and looked at his son with aU the tenderness of a
in whom he confided at the time, that he wished to denounce me on
account of those early suspicions of his, but Cl^ry succeeded in dissuading
him from doing so.
' Louis XVI.'s wardrobe in the Temple was composed of two coats that
were exactly alike, which he wore alternately. They were of a pale reddish
mixture, lined with fine unbleached linen ; the buttons were of filigree
work in gilt metal. Some waistcoats of white piqu6, some breeches of
black silky material, and a greatcoat of the colour known as cheveux de la
Reins, constituted the rest of this wardrobe. — [Note by Moelle.)
Louis XVI.'s wardrobe, composed of a hat, a broken tortoise-shell box, a
little bundle of list and white ribbon, six coats — two of cloth, two of sili,
and two of velveteen — a cloth overcoat, eight waistcoats — two of cloth, two
of velveteen, two of silk, and two of linen — ten pair of breeches to match,
two white dressing-gowns, a quilted satin dressing-jacket, five pairs of
drawers, and nineteen white waistcoats, were burnt on a pile in the Place
deGrfeve on Sunday, September 29th, 1793. — (General Council of the Com-
mune of Paris, sitting of September 30th.)
136
THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE
loving father. Then, when M. le Dauphin was dressed, he
said his prayers in the presence of his august father, who
immediately afterwards retired, ax:cording to his custom, to
meditate in the little turret-room that served him for an
oratory. I then opened a book that the King had been
reading while his hair was being dressed, and saw it was
a volume of Vise's Mercure, a set of which formed part
of the small collection of books that had been brought
here^ from time to time in accordance with His Majesty's
request.
The whole of this opening scene made a vivid impression
upon me. It shows how simple the King was in his private
life, how susceptible he was to natural affection, and how
carefully he fulfilled his personal duties. It is impossible
that so pure a life should have been the outcome of any but
the most virtuous character ; and who can doubt that such
was the character of Louis XVI. .''
Breakfast-time arrived. This meal was usually served in
the princesses' room, whither the King went with his son.
For His Majesty this was merely an opportunity of being
with his family : he stood by without eating anything. All
the commissioners were present at this meal, at which Clery
waited. Tison and his wife were in their own room,
separated from the outer room in which the royal family
were assembled, by a glazed partition, which enabled them to
watch everything that went on.
The Queen, Madame Elizabeth, and the young princess
were in their ordinary morning dress, which consisted of a
gown of white dimity. A simple cap of lawn was their
usual headgear.^
^ With regard to Louia XVI.'a Library in the Temple, see the note
on p. 137.
^ In the Register of requests made on behalf of the King and his family
there are some rather interesting details in connection with the dress of
the ladies. The following requests are made in Marie Antoinette's name :
a bodice of Jouy linen ; some cambric bodices in pink and white, and blue
and white ; a wrapper of thin Florentine taffetas with a coat-collar, of the
grey known as boue de Paris, [tied in front, with a watch-pocket ; some
white silk stockings ; a taffetas fichu to tie at the bach ; a black beaver
riding hat ; some strong shoes, either blue or grey, &c.
Under Madame ^Elizabeth's name we find linen caps trimmed with
narrow lace ; cuffs and bands of linen for cambric wrappers ; silk stock-
137
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
They changed their morning dress for a garment of dark
brown cloth with a pattern of little flowers, which was their
only costume for the day, until the King's death, when the
whole family went into mourning.
Immediately after breakfast the King went -'downstairs
with M. le Dauphin, accompanied by Clery, who retired to
his own room, and by myself. I remained in the outer room
where I had passed the night. His Majesty's door was
open.
Until the hour for going out the King spent his time
in giving a lesson in geography to M. le Dauphin, and in
reading to himself. While he was reading the young prince
left his august father's room, and came into the one where
my feelings of respect had prompted me to remain. I was
sitting near a faience stove, which was still slightly warm
from the fire that had been lit there in the morning but had
been allowed to die down, as had the King's fire ? also,
although it was fairly cold, 'because this was part of His
Majesty's regime.
Seated thus, I was looking at a volume of Tacitus that I
had taken from a cupboard in the anteroom, where some
books were kept for the King's use. The young Prince came
to see what I was reading, and I heard him say, when he
returned to His Majesty, " Papa, that gentleman is reading
Tacitus." The King, about a quarter of an hour afterwards,
took the opportunity of speaking to me on the subject of my
reading, and was kind enough to approve of certain remarks
I made as to my interpretation of the author's meaning.
In the course of this first day every incident that occurred
was a fresh interest to me, and of these the daily walk was
ings, some white and some grey ; some grey shoes ; one pair of them to be
Chinese sabots ; a hat like the Queen's. — (Papiers du Temple.)
There is also in existence a List of memoranda of articles supplied to
Louis Seize and his family between the 10th Augv^t and the 6th October,
1792, year I. of the French Republic. In the Tower of the Temple.
This list shows the bills of those who supplied the linen, cloth, silk, and
stockings, and those of the milliner, hatter, and draper, the tailors, the
dressmakers, the sempstress, various men and women employed in making
dresses and underlinen, the bootmakers, and perfumers, the cutler, book-
seller, stationer, laundresses, and messengers, &c. The total outlay comes
to 25,318 livres 15 sols 1 denier. — {Papiers du Temple, 1st April, 1884,
loc. cit.)
138
LOUIS XV f. TEACHING HIS SON GBOGKAPHY IN THE TEMPLE.
THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE
not the least pleasurable. It still took place in the Temple
garden, in an avenue of chestnut trees that had not been
destroyed. On the occasion of this mild amusement the
royal family were accompanied by all the commissioners, the
greater number of whom walked in a line with them.^
Clery amused the young prince apart from the others, and
made him run about for the sake of exercise. Meanwhile I
stood by and, as I watched him, meditated on the thought-
lessness of his age, which seemed to me to contrast so
strikingly with the anxieties of his royal parents, and the
demeanour they were obliged to preserve in this cruel
situation of theirs. Madame Elizabeth, who noticed the sad
absorption with which I followed the movements of the
young Prince, and read my thoughts, condescended to tell me
so on the first opportunity, and was kind enough to thank
me. The tender affection of this good princess for her
imprisoned relatives, whose misfortunes she had determined
to share, made her very observant and acute, so that she
learnt to judge of the commissioners' humanity by their
looks and conduct, and she was not too proud to encourage
it in them by expressing her gratitude.
At dinner, which was served in the King's room, I again
saw the whole royal family, but under a new aspect. Their
food was still excellent, and carefully prepared. The royaL
prisoners were most abstemious, the princesses and M. le
Dauphin drinking nothing but water, of which the King
mixed a great deal with his wine. At dessert he indulged in
a single glass of sweet wine. His skill in carving meat was
remarkable ; and he showed this skill in various kinds of
manual work, with which he had been in the habit of amusing
himself in happier times. The royal family spoke little, for
reserve was forced upon them by the presence of the com-
^ It was daring one of these walks that Lequeux, an architect of some
repute, took the very interesting sketch that faces p. 84. It may be assumed
to date from the early days of September, 1792, since the work of isolating
the Tower is not yet completed . On the right we see the avenue of chestnuts
to which Moelle refers. In the foreground, counting from right to left,
are three commissioners of the Commune, the King, the Queen, the
Dauphin, Madame Royale, C14ry, Madame Elizabeth, the porter Mathey,
carrying his keys ; and no doubt Tison and his wife are the figures above
the note written by the artist : / saw them there. — L. Q.
139
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
missioners. As for me, the part I had undertaken to play was
torture to me, for I reflected bitterly that I too was
contributing to the restraint to which this august family was
subjected even at their meals.
About twelve days after the King's death I went on duty
in the Temple for the last time. During the two days I
passed there very little occurred. It was almost always impos-
sible to communicate with the princesses in their room, on
account of Tison's anxious vigilance ; and I was reduced to
expressing my feelings almost entirely by mute but respectful
glances. This prompted me, on my last day, to suggest to
the royal family that they should seek some fresh air on the
roof of the Tower, where I hoped to find it easier to converse
with the princesses. The suggestion was accepted, and the
Queen as she left the room to climb the stairs gave her hand
to a municipal officer called Minier, a jeweller on the Quai
des Orfevres. This august princess, thinking in her great
goodness that my feelings might have been hurt by her
choosing his assistance rather than mine, was kind enough to
tell me as soon as she was at liberty to speak, that she had
acted in this way for fear of compromising me. This favour
was a thousand times greater than the other; and far
greater than anything I deserved.
All the commissioners , were present during this sadly
circumscribed walk. When we reached the platform the
Queen and Madame Royale leant upon the parapet at one
side, ostensibly to enjoy the view from this great height.
The Queen was between Madame and me. After I had told
her aU I knew of public affairs in answer to her questions,
she asked me what measures I thought the Convention would
take with regard to herself and the fate of the royal family.
I answered that she would probably be claimed by the
Emperor, her nephew ; that any fresh excess would be a
gratuitous, and, moreover, an impolitic outrage; and that
the King's death must surely be the final crime of the Con-
vention, who had, indeed, when answering the King's request
for a respite, undertaken to provide for his family in some
140
THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE
suitable way.^ This answer, which was the only one I could
make in the circumstances, seemed to allay the Queen's
anxiety to a certain extent ; but her hopes were chiefly for
her children and Madame Elizabeth, whose future concerned
her much more than her own. No one who never heard the
Queen give free and confidential expression to her goodness
of heart can have any idea of her true feelings or of her
beautiful nature. The royal family were too generous not
to be touched by the behaviour of those commissioners who
tried to lessen the hardships of their imprisonment, and
showed respect for their misfortunes. There is nothing
surprising, then, in the confidence that the Queen and
Madame Elizabeth showed in some of these commissioners ;
it was the only reward they had to offer in their state of
extreme destitution. It is worthy of note that their confi-
dence was never betrayed by any of those who were honoured
by it in a greater or less degree. This is as great a proof of
the princesses' discernment as of the sincere devotion that
they inspired and deserved.
Madame Royale, as I said, was present during the conversa-
tion, which now turned on various people ; among others on
Bamave, for whom the Queen inquired. I told her of his
death, which I had seen announced in several papers, though
it did not actually occur till the following year, when he was
executed with Duport-du-Tertre and Rabaut-Saint-Etienne.
On the subject of Lafayette, the Queen said he was one of
the chief causes of the sorrows that had befallen the King
and herself. Finally, when speaking of all that had combined
to bring Louis XVI. and his family to such depths of misery,
the Queen said she had not had the influence in public affairs
that had been attributed to her; but on this subject she
expressed herself very cautiously.
However that may be, the Queen shared her husband's fate
with absolute devotion. She endured a thousand dangers, a
thousand insults, a long imprisonment, and death at last!
- M. Montjoie mentions this fact in his Histdre de la Seine, and in his
second edition adds a note in which he refers to me. I repeat this part of
the conversation exactly as it took place in Madame Royale's presence. —
[Note by Moelle.)
14.1
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
And she might have escaped ! It is impossible to lay too
much stress on the fact that her courage and devotion,
which have been so cruelly misrepresented, are unique in
history, and that Madame Elizabeth, too, deserves her meed
of honour.^
I took this opportunity of begging the Queen to tell me
whether the Chevalier de Labrousse, who, to the anxiety of
his family, had disappeared on the 10th of August, had been
seen at the palace. Her Majesty, being unable to give me
any information on the subject, asked Madame if she knew
anything. The princess answered that she remembered
having seen the Chevalier de Labrousse at the palace between
eight and nine o'clock on the morning of the 10th August,
and that she feared he must have fallen a victim on that
day.
The Queen was able to talk thus to me, because Madame
Elizabeth, who probably was doing all she could to make our
conversation possible, was holding the attention of the other
commissioners, who were also engaged with the yoimg Prince
and Clery.
Moreover, as our walk was limited by the four sides of the
parapet, and the sloping roof that surmounted the Tower
filled up all the centre of the platform, the side on which the
Queen was standing was hidden from the commissioners, who
were walking with Madame Elizabeth along the other three
sides of the parapet. Therefore her Majesty had been able
to talk to me in comparative safety.
I must not forget to say that, having seen the young
prince going alone into the loft formed by the roof of the
Tower, the opening of which was on the side where I happened
to be, I had taken the opportunity of following him, and
taking him in my arms and kissing him. I could not resist
my desire for this last satisfaction.
This royal child had the noblest and most lovable face.
His figure was perfect, and at that time he enjoyed the most
' Margaret of Anjou did not share Henry VI. 's imprisonment, but she was
able to fight for him. Henrietta of France, Charles I.'s wife, took refuge
in France ; and James II.'s Queen preceded him to the same country.
(Note by MoSlle. )
142
THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE
excellent health. His bright, intelligent remarks, and his
habitual merriment, bore witness to a charming character.
The injury done by his persecutors to his fine natural
disposition is, perhaps, the most terrible of their crimes !
And I must not omit to mention that in my desire to keep
something that had been used by one of the princesses, I took
possession of a glove belonging to Madame Royale, which I
found on a seat. It was a kid glove of a yellowish colour,
and it was taken at the time of my arrest from my writing-
table, where I had put it with my most precious possessions.
143
THE CONCIERGERIE
(August 2nd — October 16th, 1793)
At midday on the 1st August, 1793, Hanriot, Commander-in-
chief of the Parisian forces, repaired to the Temple, where he
inspected all the gates, as well as the quarters of the prisoners.
He noted the "lack of artillery," took fresh measures for the
guarding of the place, ordered the officers in command at the
different guard-houses to supply themselves with ammunition,
and in short put the Temple more or less into a state of siege.
At eight o'clock in the evening matches were distributed in the
artillery-park that occupied the court of the Grand Prior's
palace ; and the troops were astir throughout the night.
At a quarter past one in the morning Michonis, Froidure,
Marino, and Michel, commissioners of police, arrived on the
scene, armed with the Order which the General Council had
drawn up on the previous day for the execution of the decree
passed by the Convention, to the effect that Marie Antoinette
should appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal, and should
immediately be transferred to the Conciergerie. Twenty
gendarmes waited in the yard to escort the prisoner.^ She was
awakened — if indeed she slept. She embraced her daughter
and her sister-in-law — her son had been taken from her a month
before — and then she passed down the stairs of the Tower and
out into the stifling, oppressive night. Surrounded by com-
missioners and soldiers she crossed the silent garden of the
Temple ; not, we may well believe, without turning, as Louis
XVI. had turned on the 21st January, to look her last at the
Tower that loomed, huge and sinister, in the darkness. A cab
awaited her at the steps of the palace ; the great gate opened to let
^ Papiers du Temple, loc. cit.
144
THE CONCIERGERIE
her pass : she and her guard briskly crossed the sleeping town ;
through the streets of Le Temple, La Tixeranderie, La
Coutellerie, and Planche-Mibray, and over the bridge of Notre-
Dame ; then plunged into the Rue de la Lanterne, and through
the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie reached the yard of the Law
Courts at last. The gates were opened; turnkeys surrounded
the prisoner ; she was hurried down the steps and through the
flagged con-idors ; finally she reached a little cell with an arched
ceiling. It was now nearly three o'clock in the morning. To
this place we shall return presently, to find Maria Theresa's
daughter.
It must not be imagined that the decree of the Convention,
summoning Marie Antoinette before the tribunal, determined
the fate of the Queen. The revolutionary politicians acted by
fits and starts, prompted by fury or fear ; their resolutions were
regulated by no plan and showed no attempt at logical sequence.
A month after the Convention had passed its decree the Queen's
fate was still undecided. It was hoped that she might be useful
as a hostage, as a means of prevailing on Austria to end the war ;
for tentative negotiations had been opened with Brussels and
Vienna, and it was thought that the head of the unhappy Queen
might command a high price.
It seems certain that her transference from the Temple to the
Conciergerie was effected with the sole object of making the
world believe that the prisoner was shortly to be tried ; and
indeed from this moment every effort was made to spread a
rumour that her execution was imminent. It was thought that
by this means the foreign Powers might be roused from their
indifference, and to save Marie Antoinette from the scaffold
might perhaps be persuaded to make the advances that had
been expected in vain for the last three months. The
Committee of Public Safety — for the mass of the Convention
did not count and had no opinion — regarded both the decree
and the Queen's transference as a mere threat and nothing
more. As for delivering her into the hands of Fouquier-
Tinville, no one dared to take the responsibility.
This sinister farce was wonderfully successful : not with the
foreign Powers, who seemed to be in no way agitated ; but with
the few active royalists in Paris who were still struggling to
save the lives of their dead master's family. No sooner was
Marie Antoinette removed to the Conciergerie, no sooner did it
145 L
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
appear plain that the fatal climax was drawmg near, than a fresh
series of courageous eiForts was made on the prisoner's behalf.
It was at this time that the adventurous, complicated Carnation
Conspiracy was formed ; a subject into which we will not enter,
having tried elsewhere to unravel the more complex parts of the
story.i
But this abortive effort only increased the perplexity of the
Committee of Public Safety. The problem remained unchanged.
What was to be done with this embarrassing hostage, since
Austria did not seem inclined to redeem her ? What would
happen if some plot, better organised than the others, were to
succeed in rescuing the prisoner .'' The authorities knew very
well — they had cause to know — that there was at that time a
more powerful influence in France than all the committees put
together : namely, money. A fearless man with large sums at
his disposal might any day make himself the deus ex machind of
the Revolution. Everjrthing was sold to the highest bidder :
from Gobel's abjuration, which was at this very moment being
bargained for and finally cost 300,000 livres,^ to the votes of the
Convention, which Chabot undertook to secure if the funds were
sufficient, and even to the re-capture of Toulon, which was
valued at ten millions, but eventually cost only four.^ These
being the conditions, there was a great risk that the hostage
that seemed so valuable might be lost, and nothing gained. But
what was to be done ?
It was during this period that the Committee of Public Safety
held a secret sitting. It took place on the 2nd September, at
eleven o'clock at night, and was held, not in the ordinary
meeting-place in the Tuileries, but at the house of Pache, the
Mayor of Paris.
At this time, there was residing at Genoa, an Englishman
called Francis Drake, through whom the British Government was
kept informed almost daily of the state of public sentiment in
France. This Drake forwarded to Lord Grenville the reports he
received from Paris, reports that were actually indited, he
declared, by a secretary of the Committee of Public Safety.
1 Perhaps we may be allowed to refer the reader to the authentic docu-
ments connected with the plot, the examinations, inquiries, &c., published
in Le Vrai Chevalier de Maison Souge, A. D. J. Gonzze de Roueeville,
1761-1814. ^
^ Historical Manuscripts Commission. The MSS. of J. B. Fortescwe,
Esq. , preserved at Dropmore. (Vol. II. , p. 463. )
^ Ibid. (Vol. II., p. 487.)
146
THE CONCIERGERIE
This tale of an English spy^ living in constant correspondence
with the members of the revolutionary government, would seem
almost incredible if the documents were not there to bear evidence
to the truth of the amazing melodrama.
Now this spy was, so to speak, present during the following
savage and horrible scene ; the souls of the men of the Terror
were laid bare before him ; he heard them trafficking in heads
and trading upon the fury of the Parisian mob ; and alas ! thanks
to this informer the shameful spectacle was witnessed also in a
foreign land, where those who saw it rejoiced that France had
fallen so low.
We will only quote from the minutes of this long sitting, which
lasted throughout the night, such passages as bear directly on the
subject with which we are concerned.
" The insurrection of the 4th and 5th was resolved upon in
its entirety. The arrest of 2,250 citizens at Paris was decided
upon : the arrests to be carried out by the revolutionary army
immediately on its formation : and it was decreed that
ChantiUy and LTsle-Adam should be filled with prisoners
because it would be easy to get rid of them there quietly.
"It was resolved to levy a hundred millions in cash and a
list was given of those who could provide the money.
" It was resolved that the Queen should die, as well as the
followers of Brissot, and everyone who was arrested on the
31st May.
" With regard to the Queen, Cambon remarked that Forgues
said negotiations relating to her were going on with Brussels,
Vienna, and Prussia, and that perhaps it might be possible by
threatening, but postponing the trial, to derive considerable
advantage from the affair.
"Herault, Barrere, Jean Bon, Saint Andre, and Hebert
rose in a fury to oppose this proposition : declaring that
Louis XVIL's life fulfilled this object in every particular ;
that the Queen's blood was necessary as a means of associating
the Hevolutional Tribunal with the Convention, and making
the town of Paris a partner in the destinies of the Convention,
that the death of Capet was more particularly the act of the
Convention, but that of the Queen would be the act of Paris
and of the Revolutionary Tribunal and army.
147 L 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
" Hubert spoke still more strongly.
" He said : ' I have promised Antoinette's head, and I
shall go and cut it off myself if there is any delay about giving
it to me. I have promised it in your name to the sansculottes
who demand it, to those without whom you would cease to
exist. The republican instinct prompts this wish of theirs to
make themselves one with us by means of this expiatory
sacrifice ; and yet you hesitate. But here am I, and I will
make you decide.
" ' I cannot see light where there is darkness, nor find
roses where there are only daggers.
" ' I do not know if you still have any hope of a Republic,
or a Constitution, or of safety for yourselves ; but I do know
that if you still have any such hope you are greatly deceived.
You will aU die ; it cannot be otherwise.
" ' I do not know whether it was right or wrong to bring
things to this pass ; but that is how things are. All your
generals are betraying you, and they will all go on betraying
you, and I should be the first to do so if I were your general
and a man of less mark, and saw a good treaty to be made
that would save my life ; but be sure that neither Pache nor
I, nor any of the King's judges, will be able to save our lives.
That could only be done by changing the face of Europe. It
cannot be done now.
" ' The Kings will injure themselves in their desire to crush
us — who shall crush them in twenty years' time. But none
the less we shall die. France will be conquered. . . We shall
all die, and so will all those who, like us, have played a pro-
minent part.
" ' If we were promised an amnesty it would be broken,
simply because nothing else would be possible ; you would
merely be stabbed or poisoned instead of being quartered.
This being our position, then, we have nothing to live for but
revenge. Our revenge may be immense. When we die let
us leave the germs of death in our enemies, and in France such
devastation that the mark of it will never be obliterated. To
effect this you must satisfy the sansculottes ; they will kill all
your enemies, but you must keep up their excitement by the
death of Antoinette — that is for them ; the death of the
148
THE CONCIERGERIE
Brissotins is for us — and by pillaging the treasuries of our
enemies.
" ' Remember that the way to make them dare everything
is to persuade them of the truth that I din into their ears
every day : that in this crisis, whatever the event may be,
their obscurity is their safeguard, and that we are responsible
for everything. Thus they will help us heartily, for all the
profits will be theirs and all the dangers ours.
" ' That is all I need say to you to let you know what I
think.'
" Having said this, he went out, without a moment's delay.
" After he left, 500,000 francs were given to Pache for the
insurrection of the 4th, in assignats.
" The public prosecutor of the Revolutionary Tribunal
was sent for, to be asked what he intended to do with regard
to the Queen.
" He said the jury must be renewed, for five jurymen were
resolved to support her ; that a certain amount of riot would
be necessary to overcome the fear of the Tribunal ; that
Dobsent was nervous, and had said that the poisoning of the
Queen was the only way to be rid of that thorn in the side :
and that he, the public prosecutor, would draw up the
indictment with the Committee in any terms they chose." ^
This time the Queen's fate was fixed ; and all the more that,
in the very hour that this discussion took place, the Carnation
Conspiracy was discovered in the Conciergerie. The merest
chance had prevented the escape of the prisoner, who had
actually left her cell and was awaited in the Cour du Mai by a
fictitious patrolling-party.
And now we will return to the registrar's office in the prison
of the Law Courts, and to the hour when Marie Antoinette
arrived there in the night of the 2nd August, 1793.
^ Francis Drake to Lord Qrenville. Schedule I. Historical Manuscripts
Commission. The MSS. of J. B. Fortescue, Esq., preserved at Dropmore.
(Vol. II., p. 457.)
149
THE NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE
LAMORLIERE
SERVANT AT THE CONCIBEGEEIB
(August — October, 1793)
There is no need for us to introduce Rosalie Lamorliere. The
poor girl has no story, or rather, her whole biography is contained
in the few pages that we are about to read.
We must, however, draw attention to the fact that Rosalie,
being quite illiterate, did not herself write her account of the
Queen's last days. It is to the investigations of Lafont
d'Aussonne that we owe this interesting narrative, and we must
guard ourselves from too implicit a belief in all its details. For
Lafont d'Aussonne was the author of a history of Marie
Antoinette ; " he had finished the siege," ^ and in editing the
recollections of this servant-girl he took care to omit everjrthing
that did not concur with his own views. It is even possible that
he added a few apparently insignificant details of his own, which
he thought might be useful as so many points gained for his own
side.
We shall be obliged to return to this subject elsewhere, so we
shall not interrupt Rosalie's story, except by a few short notes.
We shall presently show that, even if Lafont d'Aussonne,
voluntarily or otherwise, made some mistakes in his version, the
fundamental part of the tale is absolutely authentic, as Rosalie
herself recognised and certified later on.
1 The historian Vertot, author of L'Histoire de I'Ordre de Matte, on
receiving certain special information with regard to the siege of Rhodes,
said he was sorry he could make no use of it, as he had "finished the
siege." — {Translator' a Note.)
150
QD'UR
PiuiN OF Part oFiTHE
CONOIERGEBIB IN 1793.
Traced in accordance
with the narratives, evi-
dence, and memoirs of
Beugnot, Rioufife, Rosa-
lie Lamorli^re, Mioho-
nis, Rougeville, etc., etc.,
the plans of the Law
Courts, documents in the
National Archives, etc.
A. Door of a guaxdhouae under-
neath the main entrance to
the Law Courts,
B. Entrance of the prison.
a. First door.
b. Second door.
0. Room used by the Gaoler
Richard.
D. Spot where the hair of con-
demned prisoners was cut
off and sold,
B. Registrar's Office.
c. Glazed partition or wooden grating.
d. rigoon-holos containing the dossiers.
P, The back-office.
0. Bench.
G. Rooms where the turnkeys slept.
H. Council Boom (Marie Antoinette's first
cell).
I. Small rooms where women condemned to
death spent the night.
J. Room of the gendarmes guarding the
Queen.
K. The Queen's second cell
THE queen's two CELLS IN THE CONOIEROERIE,
151
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Declaration of Rosalie Lamorliere, Native of Breteuil in
Picardy, Servant in the Conciergerie during the
Imprisonment of Marie Antoinette.
I was employed, in the capacity of lady's maid, by Madame
Beaulieu, the mother of the celebrated actor, when King
Louis XVI. was condemned to die upon the scaffold.
Madame Beaulieu, who was at that time both infirm and
ill, nearly died of grief when she heard he had been con-
demned, and she cried out over and over again : " Unjust
and barbarous people, the day will come when you shall
shed tears of despair upon the grave of this good King ! "
Madame Beaulieu died soon after the September massacres^ ;
and her son then confided me to the care of Madame Richard,
wife of the gaoler at the Law Courts.
At first I felt a great dislike to taking a situation with a
gaoler ; but M. Beaulieu, who was, as is well known, a good
royalist, and in his legal capacity was going to defend the
victims of the Revolutionary Tribimal without any fee,
begged me to accept this place because, he said, I should
find opportunities of being useful to numbers of worthy
people who were confined in the Conciergerie. He promised
to come and see me as often as he could, for his theatre,
the Theatre de la Cite, was only a few steps away.^
My new mistress, Madame Richard, had not the education
of Madame Beaulieu, but she had the same gentleness of dis-
position, and as she had been a dealer in ladies' wardrobes
she was naturally inclined to cleanliness both in her house
and in her person.
At this time it took a great deal of capability to manage
a huge prison like the Conciergerie, yet I never saw my
mistress perplexed. She answered everyone in few words ;
• This gives us some idea of Lafont d'Aussonne's method of working.
If Madame Beaulieu died soon after the massacres of September (1792) she
cannot have nearly died of grief at the King's execution in January, 1793, as
is said to have been the case a few lines back. The apostrophe to the
unjust and barbarous people, then, was invented by Lafont d' Aussoune.
^ It is quite true that the theatre in which Beaulieu acted was at the
corner formed by the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie and the Rue de la
Barillerie, exactly opposite to the gate of the Law Courts.
152
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLI^RE
she gave orders with absolute clearness ; she never slept for
more than a few minutes at a time, and nothing occurred
within or without the prison of which she was not
immediately informed. Her husband, though not so
capable in business matters, was painstaking and hard-
working. I gradually became attached to this family,
because I saw they did not disapprove of the pity I felt for
the poor prisoners of that dreadful time.
After dinner on the 1st August, 1793, Madame Richard
said to me in a low voice : " Rosalie, we shall not go to bed
to-night. You shall sleep on a chair. The Queen is going
to be moved from the Temple to this prison." Immediately
afterwards I heard her giving orders for General Custine's
removal from the Council Room,^ so that the Queen might be
put into it. A turnkey was despatched to the store-keeper
of the prison, Bertaud, who lived in the Cour de la Sainte-
Chapelle. He was asked for a folding bedstead, two
mattresses, a bolster, a light coverlet, and a basin.
This slight supply of furniture was placed in the damp
room that M. de Custine was leaving. A common table and
two prison chairs were added. Such were the preparations
made to receive the Queen of France.
At about three o'clock in the morning I was sitting in an
arm-chair, half asleep, when Madame Richard pulled my arm
and woke me suddenly, saying : " Come, Rosalie, come, wake
up ! Take this candlestick — they are coming ! "
I went downstairs, trembling, and followed Madame Richard
to M. de Custine's cell, which was at the end of a long dark
passage. The Queen was already there. A number of
gendarmes stood before her door on the outside. Several
officers and prison officials were inside the room, and were
1 Historians have not been able to agree as to the situation of this
Council Room, and have given up trying to determine where it was. The
enigma seems fairly easy to solve, however. According to the descriptions
of Rosalie Lamorli^re and other eye-witnesses the entrance to this room
was at the end of a passage, and was lighted by a Imo window almost
on a level with the Cour des Femmes. Well, there is but one, and judging
by the old plans there never has been more than one, room in the
Conciergerie that answers to this description. It is now the canteen of
the prison. The Queen was there from the morning of the 3rd August
till the 13th or 14th September, that is to say for forty days.
153
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
talking together in low voices. The day was beginning to
dawn.
Instead of registering the Queen's name in the oflGce with
the glass partition, to the left of the entrance-hall,^ they
registered it in her ceU. This formality being completed,
everyone went out except Madame Richard and myself, who
remained alone with the Queen. The weather was hot. I
remarked the drops of perspiration that ran down the
Queen's face, which she wiped two or three times with her
handkerchief. She looked round with astonished eyes at the
horrible emptiness of the room, and with a certain amount of
interest at the gaoler's wife and myself. Then, standing on
a cloth-covered stool that I had brought her from my room,
the Queen hung her watch upon a nail that she saw in the
wall, and began to undress to go to bed. I went forward
respectfully arid offered her my assistance. " No, thank you,
my good girl," she answered, without a sign of suUenness or
pride ; " since I have been without anyone to help me I have
done everything for myself."
The daylight was growing. We took away our candles,
and the Queen lay down in a bed that was certainly very unfit
for her, though we had at least provided her with very fine
linen ^nd a pillow.
When morning came two gendarmes were posted in the
Queen's room, and she was also provided with a servant in
the person of a woman of nearly eighty years old, who was,
as I have learnt since, at one time the concierge of the
Admiralty Court in this very building of the Law Courts.
Her son, who was about twenty-four or twenty-five years of
age, was one of the turnkeys of our prison. (Her name was
Lariviere.) ^
During the first forty days ^ I had nothing to do in the
Queen's room. I only went there with Madame Richard or
her husband to carry in the breakfast at nine o'clock, and the
dinner, which was generally at two o'clock or half-past.
Madame Richard laid the table, and I, to show my respect,
^ See the plan, p. 151.
^ See page 238, the narrative of the turnkey, this woman's son.
' That is to say, until the 1.3th September when the Queen was moved to
another cell.
154
PASSAGE LEADING TO THE QUEENS FIRST CELL IN THE CONCIKRGBBIE.-
ACTUAL CONDITION. —DRAWN ON THE SPOT BY gAeARDIN.
155
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
stood near the door. But Her Majesty deigned to notice
this, and did me the honour of saying: "Come nearer,
Rosalie ; do not be afraid."
Old Madame Lariviere, after having patched and mended
the Queen's black dress very neatly, was considered unfit for
her post. She returned to her home near the old Admiralty
Court, and was at once replaced by a young woman called
Harel, whose husband was employed in the police depart-
ment.^
The Queen had shown confidence in the old woman, and
evidently had some regard for her. She did not think so
well of her successor, and hardly ever spoke a word to her.
The two gendarmes (who were always the same^) were
' To these details we may add the following sketch, drawn by another
witness. "During the early days of the month of August, 1793,
a turnkey from the Conciergerie came to fetch me, for I was the glazier
employed in the prison and the Law Courts. He told me, in the gaoler's
name, to bring two panes of glass of a medium size, and to follow him
without delay.
" When I entered the large vestibule, where I heard I was to be taken to
the Queen's cell, I was seized by a sudden feeling of pity, and I left my
hat there, so as to appear more respectful.
' ' When I went into her cell, which was a little low room of about fourteen
feet square, I saw the Queen sitting in front of her bed, with her eyes
fixed upon her work. Two gendarmes, armed with swords and muskets,
were in the opposite corner, with their faces towards the Queen ; and
a woman of the people, seated between the Queen's chair and the door,
fixed her eyes upon me attentively.
' ' While I was putting my first pane into one of the window-frames the
sound of a harp came from the upper floors of the prison. Her Majesty
laid down her work and listened to the music, which seemed to please her,
I thought. Then this great princess said to me : ' Monsieur le vitrier, do
you think that the harp we hear is being played by some woman in the
prison ? '
" ' Madame,' I answered her at once, ' the person who is playing that
instrument does not belong to the prison. She is the daughter of one of
the registrars ' — I was about to add ' of one of the tribunals of the Seine,'
but the woman Arel, with a look of great irritation, signed to me in an
imperious way that reduced me to silence.
"The Queen saw by my face that an order of this kind had been con-
veyed to me. She did not say another word, and lowered her eyes." —
(Deposition of the Sieur Oreus. Mimoire au Roi, by Lafont d'Aussonne,
1825.)
^ This parenthesis is certainly interpolated by Lafont d'Aussonne. We
shall see how important it was for him that these gendarmes should have
been always the same. As Rosalie had given their names as Dufrtoe and
Gilbert he hoped to be able to refute the believers in The Queen's
Oommunion at the Conciergerie, who affirmed, with the Abb6 Mangnin as
their authority, that these men were called Prud'homme and Lamarche.
It is quite certain, on the contrary, that the gendarmes who guarded the
156
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIl^RE
called Dufrene and Gilbert. The latter seemed rougher than
his companion the corporal. Sometimes Her Majesty, in her
intense weariness of doing nothing, would go up to them
while we were laying the table, and would watch them playing
cards for a few moments, while Madame Richard or the gaoler
was present.
One day Madame Richard brought into the cell her
youngest child, who had fair hair, very pretty blue eyes, and
a charming face that was much more refined than is common
in his class of life. He was known as Famfan.
When the Queen saw this fine little boy she was obviously
greatly moved. She took him in her arms, covered him with
kisses and caresses, and bursting into tears began to talk to
us about M. le Dauphin, who was of about the same age.
She thought of him night and day. This incident was most
painful to her, and after we had gone upstairs again Madame
Richard told me nothing would induce her to take her little
boy into the cell again.
About the middle of September a most unfortunate thing
happened, which did the Queen a great deal of harm. An
officer in the army called M. de Rougeville was brought into
her cell in disguise by a municipal officer named Michonis.
The former (who was known to the Queen) dropped a carnation
on the hem of her skirt, and I have heard it said that the
flower concealed a paper on which were written the details of
a conspiracy. The woman Harel saw everything, and reported
the matter to Fouquier-TinviUe, who came into the prison
every night before twelve o'clock. The two gendarmes were
also questioned. The Government thought there was a wide-
spread plot in Paris for helping the Queen to escape, and
immediately issued orders that were more severe and a hundred
times more terrible than any previous ones. M. Richard, his
wife, and their eldest son were confined in the prisons of
Sainte-Pelagie and the Madelonnettes. The woman Harel
prisoner were not always the same. We shall see presently that Rosalie
speaks of an officer being on guard in the Queen's room. This officer was
not Gilbert, who was an ordinary gendarme, nor yet DufrSne, whose
functions were those of a corporal. Nor were Gilbert and DufrSne on
duty on the morning of the 16th October. Moreover Rosalie says later on :
Tht two gendarmes were remoreed from the Queen's cell.
157
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
disappeared. The two gendarmes were removed from the
Queen's cell, and a man called Lebeau,^ the head gaoler at
La Force, was appointed to be the new gaoler at the Law
Courts.
At first sight Lebeau seemed hard and stem, but he was
not a bad man at heart. The directors of the prison told
him I was to remain there in his employ as cook, because they
had no reason to distrust me, and I meddled with nothing in
the house but my own business. They added, however, that
I was no longer to go to market as in Madame Richard's
time, and was to be kept within the confines of the Con-
ciergerie, like the gaoler and his young daughter Victoire
(now Madame Colson, living at Montfort I'Amaury).
It was decided that Lebeau was to be answerable with his
life for the Queen's person, and that he alone was to have the
use of the key of her cell. He was never to enter it except
when absolutely necessary, and then was always to be accom-
panied by the officer of constabulary on duty, or by the
corporal.
A sentinel was posted in the little Cour des Femmes, which
the Queen's room overlooked, and as her two little windows
were nearly on a level with the pavement the sentinel, as he
passed to and fro, could easily see ever3rthing that took place
inside the room.
Although Her Majesty had no communication with anyone
in the Conciergerie, she was not in ignorance of the misfortune
that had befallen her first gaoler and his family. Some
members of the Committee of General Security had paid her
a visit, and had questioned her with regard to Michonis and
' Lafout d'Aussonne always persisted in calling Richard's successor
Lebeau. His name was Bault. At least, he signed himself so.
It was on the 11th September that Richard and his family were lodged in
the Madelonnettes. It seems certain that they showed great devotion to the
Queen. Montjoye writes as follows : "I was entirely successful in gaining
over Richard, whom from the first I found to be influenced by sentiments
superior to his condition in life. I persuaded him to consent to every-
thing I could desire for the well-being of the Queen. I began by
appointing myself librarian to the Queen, who, as I shall always
remember, declared that she enjoyed reading the most appalling
adventures. . . . The Queen began by reading Un Voyage A Veniae,
which seemed to please her because she found people mentioned in it whom
she had known in her childhood at the Court of Vienna. After this
she embarked upon L'Histoire des Naufra,ges fa/meux."
158
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE
the carnation,^ and I heard that she had answered all the
questions with the greatest caution.
When Lebeau entered the Queen's room for the first time,
I went with him, carrying the soup that Madame usually had
for breakfast. She looked at Lebeau, who, in accordance
with the fashion of the day, was dressed in the garment called
a Carmagnole. The collar of his shirt was open and turned
back, but his head was bare. Holding his keys in his hand,
he stood close to the wall near the door.
The Queen removed her night-cap, took a chair, and said
to me pleasantly : " Rosalie, you must put up my chignon
for me to-day." On hearing these words the gaoler ran
forward, seized the comb, and, pushing me aside, said in a
loud voice : " Leave it alone, leave it alone ; that is my
business." The Queen, greatly surprised, looked at Lebeau
with an air of indescribable majesty. " I thank you, no," she
said to him. Then, rising from her chair, she arranged her
hair herself, and put on her cap.
Ever since she had been in the Conciergerie her hair had
been dressed in the simplest way. She parted it on her fore-
head after sprinkling it with a little scented powder. Madame
Harel bound the hair at the end with a piece of white ribbon
about a yard in length, knotted the ribbon tightly and gave
the two ends of it to Madame, who crossed them herself, and
by fastening them on the top of her head gave her hair the
shape of a loose chignon. Her hair was fair, not red.
On the day that she declined Lebeau's help, and resolved
in future to arrange her hair herself, Her Majesty took from
the table the roll of white ribbon that was left over, and said
to me, with an expression of melancholy friendliness that went
to my heart : " Rosahe, take this ribbon, and keep it always
in memory of me." The tears came to my eyes, and as I
thanked Madame I made her a curtsey.
When the gaoler and I were in the passage he took posses-
sion of my ribbon, and when we reached his room upstairs he
said : " I am very sorry to have annoyed that poor woman,
1 We have quoted the text of this examination in Le Vrai Ohevalier de
Maison-Rouge—A. D. J. Oonzze de Mougeville. We venture to refer the
reader to that work.
159
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
but my position is so difficult that the least thing is enough
to frighten me. I cannot forget that my comrade Richard
and his wife are in a prison cell. In heaven's name, Rosalie,
do nothing imprudent, or I am lost."
When, during the night of the 2nd August, the Queen
arrived from the Temple, I noticed that no kind of under-
clothes nor other garments had been brought with her. On
the morrow, and on every following day, this unfortvmate
princess asked for some linen, but Madame Richard, fearing
to compromise herself, did not dare to lend her any, or
procure any for her. At last the municipal officer, Michonis,
who was a good fellow at heart, went to the Temple, and on
the tenth day a parcel was brought from the Tower. The
Queen opened it without delay. It contained some beautiful
cambric chemises, some pocket-handkerchiefs, some fichus,
some stockings of black silk or filoselle, a white wrapper to
wear in the morning, some night-caps, and several pieces of
ribbon of various widths. Madame was quite touched at the
sight of this linen, and turning to Madame Richard and me
she said : " From the careful way in which all these things
are arranged, I can recognise the thoughtfulness and the hand
of my poor sister Elizabeth.'"
When Her Majesty came to the prison she was wearing her
large mourning-cap, her widow's headdress. One day she said
to Madame Richard, in my presence : " Madame, I should be
glad, if it were possible, to have two caps instead of one, so
as to be able to change. Would you have the kindness to
give my headdress to the sempstress you employ ? There is,
I think, enough lawn in it to make two simple caps."
Madame Richard carried out the Queen's commission with-
out any difficulty ; and when we brought her the two perfectly
simple new caps she seemed satisfied with them, and turning
to me was good enough to say : " Rosalie, I have nothing
now that I can give away ; but I should like, child, to give
you this wire frame and this piece of lawn that the sempstress
has returned."
I curtsied humbly as I thanked Madame ; and I still have
the piece of lawn that she did me the honour of giving me.
I showed it, twenty-nine or thirty years ago, to the Boze
160
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE
ladies when they came to see their prisoner^ at the Con-
ciergerie ; and they covered these remnants of material with
tears and kisses. The Queen suffered from one great privation.
She was not allowed to have any kind of needle, and she
particularly liked occupation and work. I noticed that from
time to time she pulled out the coarse threads of the canvas
that served as a wall-paper and -was nailed along the walls on
wooden frames ; and with these threads, which she polished
with her hand, she made a kind of braid, and made it very
evenly too, using her knee for a cushion and some pins for
needles.
Her taste for flowers had been, by her own confession, a
veritable passion. At first we used now and then to put a
bouquet on her little oak table, but M. Lebeau did not dare to
countenance this indulgence. He was so much afraid of me
for the first few days after he arrived that he had a large
screen made, seven feet high, with a view to hiding the
prisoner from me while I was bringing in the meals or clean-
ing the room. I saw this screen, but it was never used for
this purpose. Lebeau contented himself with the one we
gave the Queen in Madame Richard's time, which was oidy
four feet high. This was used as a kind of curtain beside the
Queen's bed, and separated her in some degree from the
gendarmes while she was occupied with her toilet, which the
barbarity of those in authority forbade her to perform in
private ! A convict called Barassin ^ was employed for part of
the menial work in her room. . . .
When she rose in the morning she put on some little low
slippers, and every second day I brushed her pretty black
prunella shoes, whose heels were made a la Saint- Huberty,
about two inches high. Sometimes the gaoler was called
away to see about something urgent and indispensable in con-
nection with the prison, and at such times he left me in the
constabulary officer's charge. One day, to my astonishment,
1 Boze was a painter of some repute. The Boze ladies kept up their
relations with Rosalie Lamorli^re until after the Revolution of 1830.
(Seepage 177.)
^ I believe that this oonviot, who is supposed to have been one of the
moutmis of the Oonciergerie, that is to say one of the spies charged with
denouncing the prisoners, was a relation of Madame Richard. For her
maiden name was M. A. Barassin.
161 M
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
this officer took up one of the Queen's shoes himself, and
using the point of his sword, scratched off the mildew that
came from the damp bricks, as I was myself doing with my
knife. The imprisoned priests and nobles watched our pro-
ceedings from the yard, through the grating that divided us
from them. Seeing that this officer of constabulary was a
good fellow, they implored me to come close to them, so that
they might see the Queen's shoe near at hand. They took it
from me, and passing it from hand to hand, they covered it
with kisses.
Madame Richard, on account of a law that had just been
passed, had hidden all her plate. On the Queen's table,
therefore, the plates and dishes were of tin,^ which I kept as
clean and well-polished as I possibly could.
Her Majesty had a fairly good appetite. She cut her
chicken in two : that is to say, it sufficed her for two days.
She stripped the bones with incredible ease and care. She
never left any of the vegetables that composed her second
course.
' Dossier F76711 in the National Archives contains a curious letter,
written in 1816 by the Sieur Dufengray, private secretary to the Prefect of
the Sonune. "In 1793," he says, "three or four days after the Queen's
death, the too-famous Chaumette, Prooureur of the Commune of Paris,
brought to Mdme. Cornu, a woman who dealt in toys and turnery in the
Rue Saint-Barthel^my, at the sign of the Mai7i d'Or, a tin plate which the
Queen had used at her meals throughout her imprisonment in the
Conciergerie, and on which she had written in circles, from the centre to
the circumference, on the inside in Italian and on the outside in German.
The reason Chaumette took this plate to Mme. Cornu was that he wished
her to have a sort of tripod made to hold this trophy, which was then to be
put under glass. The plate was with Mme. Cornu for an hour, at the end
of which time Chaumette came to fetch it again, saying that he had
changed his mind."
On receiving this letter Louis XVIII. ordered a search to be made. The
police made inquiries, and at No. 34 Rue des Bernardins found Mme.
Cornu, extremely old, infirm and decrepit, living with her daughter.
They both remembered the tin plate, which was, they declared,
covered with Greek characters traced in circles, with several French
words, notably these : Av,x rn^res malheureuses. Chaumette had brought
it, and had said to them : " It is the plate used by the Queen in
the Conciergerie ; I wish to keep it ; make a stand for it so that it can be
seen on both sides." And at the same time he ordered a vase, in which, he
declared, the ashes of a great man (?) were to be kept. The plate re-
mained for three or four months with Mme. Cornu and her daughter
without their taking the work in hand. One of their workmen wished to
copy the characters traced by the Queen, but was forbidden to do so.
Chaumette came back about a week before his death, and took away this
precious relic. No one knows who became possessed of it.
162
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE rLAlNIORLIERE
When she had finished she said grace in a very low voice ;
then rose, and began to walk about. This was the signal for
our departui'e. After the affair of the carnation I was for-
bidden to leave so much as a glass at her disposal. One day
M. de Saint-Leger, the American, who was coming from the
registrar's office and was on his way to the yard with his
companions, noticed that I was carrying a glass half filled
with water. The Creole said to me : " Did the Queen drink
the water that has gone from this glass .'' " I answered that
she did. With a quick gesture M. de Saint-Leger uncovered
his head and drank the water that remained, with every
indication of respect and pleasure.
Her Majesty, as I have said already, had neither chest of
drawers nor cupboard in her room. When her little stock of
linen arrived from the Temple she asked for a box to put it
in, to keep it from the dust. Madame Richard did not dare
to repeat this request to the prison authorities, but she per-
mitted me to lend a cardboard box to the Queen, who
welcomed it with as much pleasure as if she had been given
the most beautiful piece of furniture in the world.
The prison system at that time did not allow looking-
glasses to be supplied, and every morning Madame repeated
her request for one. Madame Richard permitted me to lend
my little glass to the Queen. To offer it to her made me
blush, for the mirror had been bought on the quays, and had
cost me no more than twenty-five sous in assignats. I seem
to see it still. It was edged with red, and had Chinese faces
painted on each side of it. The Queen accepted this little
glass as though it were quite an important affair, and Her
Majesty used it till the last day of her life.
As long as Madame Richard was there the Queen's meals
were prepared with care, and indeed I might say with refine-
ment. Everything that was bought for her was the best of
its kind, and in the market there were three or fom* women
who knew the gaoler well by sight, and gave him their
tenderest chickens and their finest frait. " For our Queen,"
they said with tears.
After Richard and his family were sent to prison we no
longer went to market ourselves, but the tradespeople came
163 M 3
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
to the Law Courts and spread out the articles of food, one by
one, in the presence of the police and the corporal.
The Queen, when she saw the new kind of dinner that was
prepared for her, perceived at once that the affair of the car-
nation had changed everything. But she never allowed a
word of complaint to escape her. I brought her nothing but
her soup and two other dishes. (Every day there was a dish
of vegetables, and this was followed by chicken and veal
alternately.) But I prepared these things to the best of my
ability. Madame, whose love of cleanliness and daintiness
was excessive, looked at my table-linen, which was always
spotless, and seemed to be thanking me mutely for my con-
sideration for her. Sometimes she gave me her glass to fill.
She drank nothing but water, and had drunk nothing else at
Versailles, as she sometimes recalled in talking to us. I
admired the beauty of her hands, whose charm and whiteness
were indescribable.
Without moving the table she took up her position
between it and the bed. I was then able to see the delicacy
of all her features, which were clearly visible in the light from
the window ; and one day I noticed here and there a few very
slight marks of small-pox — so slight that they were imper-
ceptible at a distance of four or five yards. In Lebeau's time
Madame did her hair every day in his presence and mine,
while I was making her bed and spreading out her dress on a
chair. I noticed patches of white hair on her temples.
There was none on the top of her head nor in the rest of her
hair. Her Majesty told us that this was due to her distress
on the 6th October.
Madame de Lamarliere, who is still alive and residing in
Paris, begged me more than once in Madame Richard's time
to procure some of the Queen's hair for her to put in a locket.
I might easily have done this, for Her Majesty cut her hair
from time to time.
After the affair of the carnation Madame de Lamarliere
was unable for a long time to obtain permission to see her
husband, who was a prisoner.
Before the disgrace of Richard's family the Queen's washing
had been done by Madame Saulieu, our ordinary laundress,
164
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLI^RE
whose house was a few yards from the Archbishop's palace.
After the unlucky business of the carnation our laundress did
not come any more. The registrar of the Revolutionary
Tribunal took away the Queen's personal linen, except her
caps and fichus, and it seems that her chemises were only doled
out to her one by one at long intervals. . . She asked me
privately for some underlinen, and I at once put some of my
chemises under her bolster.
On the fourth day after her arrival at the Conciergerie the
prison authorities took away her watch, which she had
brought from Germany when she came here to be Dauphine.
I was not with her when this unpleasant incident took place,
but Madame Richard spoke of it in our room, and said the
Queen had wept bitterly when she was made to give up this
gold watch.
Fortunately the commissioners did not know that she
wore a very valuable oval locket, hung round her neck,
by a thin black cord. This locket contained some of the
young King's curly hair, and a portrait of him. It was
wrapped in a little yellow kid glove, which had been worn by
M. le Dauphin.
The Queen, when she came from the Temple, had still two
pretty diamond rings and her wedding-ring. The two
diamond rings, though she was unconscious of the fact,
formed a sort of plaything for her. As she sat dreaming,
she would take them off and put them on again, and slip
them from one hand to the other several times in a minute.
After the affair of the carnation her little room was in-
spected several times : her drawer was opened, her person
searched, and her chairs and table overturned. The wretches
who did this saw the glitter of the diamonds in her two
rings, and took them away from her, telling her they would
be returned to her when everything was over.
After this she was liable to receive unexpected visits of
this kind in her cell at any hour of the day or night :
and the architects and the prison authorities were perpetually
coming to make sure that the iron bars and the walls were
perfectly secure. I could see that they were constantly
in a state of perplexity. They said to each other : " Could
165
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
she not escape this way, or escape that way?" They
allowed neither us nor themselves a single moment of
relaxation.
Their fear of treachery within or of some surprise from
without kept them constantly about us in the Conciergerie.
They ate their meals unceremoniously at the gaoler's table,
and every day I was obliged to prepare a large supply
of food for fifteen or eighteen of these people.
I once heard Madame Richard say : " The Queen does not
expect to be tried. She still hopes her relations will insist
on her being given up to them : she told me so with the most
charming candour. If she leaves us, Rosalie, you will be her
lady's maid ; she will take you with her."
After the affair of the carnation the Queen seemed to
me to be anxious, and much more alarmed than before.
She thought deeply, and sighed, as she walked to and
fro in the cell. One day she noticed, in a room barred
with iron opposite to her own windows, a prisoner, a woman,
pra3dng with clasped hands and eyes raised to heaven.
" Rosalie,'" said this noble, good princess to me, " look
up there at that poor nun : how earnestly she is praying to
God ! "
No doubt the nun was praying for the Queen. The
ladies in the prison spent all their time in this way.
My father came from the country to see me. As no one
had been allowed to enter the prison since the Carnation
Conspiracy he had the greatest difficulty in obtaining leave
to see me, and was escorted to my very room. M. Lebeau
said to him : " I am forbidden to receive visits or allow
others to receive them. My own family does not come in
here. Do not be more than four or five minutes with your
daughter, — and, my good fellow, do not come again." I was
not even able to offer my father any refreshment. Showing
him a fowl that was on the spit I said to him in a low voice :
"That is for the poor Queen, whom we have here." My
father sighed ; and we parted.
One day while I was making the Queen's bed I dropped
the day's paper, which I had tucked under my fichu ; and I
discovered what I had done when we were upstairs again
166
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE
in our rooms. I was greatly troubled, and confessed to M.
Lebeau what had happened. He was much more disturbed
than I, for he was naturally timid. " Come quickly," he said,
" come back to the cell. Take that bottle of fresh water,
which we will change for the other. I see no way out of
this!''
We had to apply to the gendarmes again : then we went
into the Queen's room, and I found my newspaper, which she
had not noticed.
The Queen, who had suffered much discomfort from the
heat of the month of August, suffered equally from the cold ^
and damp of the first fifteen days of October.
She complained of it in her gentle way ; and as for
me, I was mortally distressed that I could do nothing to
lessen her suffering. I never failed in the evening to take
her night-dress from under the bolster, and run up to our own
room to warm it well. Then I replaced it under the bolster,
together with the large fichu that the Queen wore at
night.
She noticed these little attentions, which were the natural
outcome of my loyalty and respect, and she thanked me
for them with a glance as full of friendliness as if I had
done more than my simple duty. She had never been allowed
any lamp or candle, and I prolonged as much as possible
the various little preparations for the night, so that my
revered mistress might not be left in solitude and darkness
until the latest moment possible. As a rule she had no light
by which to go to bed except the feeble glimmer of the
distant lamp in the Cour des Femmes.
On the 12th October, about two hours after she had gone
to bed, the judges of the Tribunal came to subject her to a
strict examination ; and the next morning, when I went to
make her bed, I found her walking rapidly to and fro in her
wretched cell. I felt as though my heart would break, and
dared not let my eyes dwell on her.
' When Girard, the constitutional curi of Saint-Landry, went into the
Queen's cell on the 16th October, to accompany her to the scaffold, he
found her quite numb, and complaining "that her feet were deadly cold."
Girard advised her to lay her pillow upon her feet, and the Queen took hia
advice.
167
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
For several days previous to this she had no longer been
alone.i An officer had been put into her cell to watch her.
At last that terrible day, the 15th October, dawned. By
eight o'clock in the morning she had gone up into the
Court to suffer the ordeal of her trial, and as I do not
remember taking any sort of food to her on that day it
would seem that she was made to go up there fasting.
During the morning I heard some people discussing the
trial. " Marie Antoinette will get out of it," they said ;
" she answered like an angel : she will only be banished."
At about four o'clock in the afternoon the gaoler said to
me : " The proceedings are suspended for three-quarters
of an hour, but the prisoner will not come down. Go up
there quickly : they are asking for some broth."
I instantly took up some excellent soup that I was keeping
in reserve on my range, and went up to find the Queen.
As I was on the point of entering the room where she was
a superintendent of police called Labuzire, a little man
with a broken nose, snatched the bowl of soup from my
hands and gave it to his mistress, a young woman who was
greatly over-dressed. " This young woman," he said to me,
" is extremely anxious to see the Widow Capet, and this is a
grand opportunity for her to do so." Whereupon the
woman went off carrying the soup, half of which was spilt.
It was in vain that I begged and implored Labuziere : he
was all-powerful and I was obliged to submit. What must
the Queen have thought when she received her bowl of soup
from the hands of a stranger !
At a few minutes past four on the morning of the 16th
October we were told that the Queen of JYance was con-
demned. I felt as though a sword had pierced my heart, and
I went to cry in my own room, smothering my groans and
sobs. The gaoler was grieved to hear of the sentence, but
he was more accustomed to such things than I, and he
aifected to be unconcerned.
At about seven o'clock in the morning he told me to go down
' This tends to prove that since she had been moved into her new cell,
that is to say, since the 13th September, the Queen had no longer been
vi'atched by gendarmes.
168
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE
to the Queen and ask her if she required anything to eat.
As I entered the cell, where two lights were burning, I
perceived an officer of constabulary sitting in the left-hand
comer, and as I drew near to Madame I saw she was stretched
upon her bed, dressed all in black.
Her face was turned towards the window, and she was
supporting her head with her hand. " Madame," I said to
her tremblingly, " you ate nothing yesterday evening, and
hardly anything during the day. What would you like
to have this morning ? " The Queen was weeping bitterly.
She answered : "I shall never need anything again, my girl :
everything is over for me." I took the liberty of persisting.
" Madame," I said, '' I have kept some broth and some
vermicelli on the range : you require support : let me bring
you something."
The Queen, weeping still more bitterly than before, said to
me : " Rosalie, bring me some broth." I went to fetch it.
She sat up, but could. hardly swallow a mouthful or two. I
declare before Heaven that she took no more nourishment
than that
A little time before it was broad daylight a priest
came to the Queen, with the sanction of the Government, and
offered to hear her confession. Her Majesty, hearing from
himself that he had a cure in Paris, understood that he had
taken the oath, and refused his ministrations. The incident
was discussed in the prison.
When it was daylight^ that is to say at about eight o'clock in
the morning, I went back to Madame to help her to dress,
as she had told me to do when she took the drop of broth
sitting on her bed. Her Majesty went into the little space
that I usually left between the folding bed and the wall.
She herself unfolded a chemise that had probably been
brought to her in my absence, and having signed to me to
stand in front of her bed so as to hide her from the gendarme,
she stooped down behind the bed, and slipped off her dress
in order to change her underlinen for the last time. The
officer of gendarmerie came forward instantly, and standing
by the head of the bed watched the Queen's proceedings.
Her Majesty quickly threw her fichu over her shoulders, and
169
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
with the greatest gentleness said to the yoimg man : " In the
name of decency, monsieur, let me change my linen without
being watched."
" It is impossible for me to allow it," answered the gen-
darme roughly ; " my orders are to keep my eye on you,
whatever you are doing."
The Queen sighed, slipped her chemise over her head for
the last time as cautiously and modestly as possible, and then
dressed herself, not in the long black dress that she wore
before her judges, but in the loose white gown that she
usually wore in the morning. Then, unfolding her large
muslin fichu, she crossed it under her chin.
I was so much disturbed by the gendarme's brutality that
I did not notice whether the Queen still had M. le Dauphin's
portrait, but I was glad to see that she carefully roUed up
her soiled chemise, slipping it into one of her sleeves as
though into a sheath, and then squeezing it into a space
that caught her eye, between the old canvas on the wall and
the wall itself.
On the previous day, knowing that she was going to
appear in public and before her judges, she had raised her hair
a little, for the sake of appearances. She had also fastened to
her lawn cap, with its little plaited trimming at the edge, the
two hanging lappets that she kept in the cardboard box ; and
under these mourning lappets she had neatly fastened a piece
of black crape, which made her a pretty widow's head-dress.
To go to the scaiFold she wore only the simple lawn cap,
with no lappets nor other sign of mourning ; but having
only one pair of shoes^ she kept on her black stockings and
prunella shoes, which were neither out of shape nor spoilt,
though she had worn them for the seventy-six days that she
had been with us.
I left her without daring to say a word of farewell, or
make a single curtsey to her, for I feared to compromise
or distress her. I went away to my own room to cry, and
to pray for her.
^ M. Campardon observes that Rosalie was mistaken, for the inventory
taken after Marie Antoinette's death mentions one pair of new shoes and
two pairs of old ones.
170
NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLlilRE
When she had left this hateful building, the chief usher
of the Tribunal, accompanied by three or four men employed,
like himself, in the Courts, came to the gaoler and asked for
me. He told me to follow him to the Queen's cell, where
he allowed me to take possession of ray looking-glass and my
cardboard box. As for the other things that had belonged
to Her Majesty, he told me to wrap them up in a sheet.
The men made me put everything into the bundle, even
a straw that had been dropped, I do not know how, on
the floor of the room ; and they carried off these wretched
spoils of the best and most unhappy princess that ever
lived !
P.S. — About ten or eleven days before the trial, a certain
constabulary officer, in whom she seemed to have great con-
fidence, had been placed on guard in her cell. His name was
de Bune, and it was he who, during the trial, took her a glass of
water, which drew down upon him a great deal of persecution.
He was arrested and tried.
I was shown a portrait of him a little time ago, in a room
at the Quatre-Natkms. It is very good — I recognised it
instantly.
171
NOTES BY
MONSEIGNEUR DE SALAMON
(1796)
In the Souvenirs de I' Intemonce a Paris pendant la Eevolution^
there are to be found a few details that complete the story of
Rosalie Lamorlifere.
Monseigneur de Salamon^ being confined in the Conciergerie
in 1796, renewed there his acquaintance with the gaoler
Richard, whom he had known in the days of the old regime,
when he was in the habit of inspecting prisons as a Commissioner
of the Q)urt.
" I shall have to make you sleep under lock and key," said
this good fellow to me ; " but during the day you can be in
my rooms, you can have your meals with me, and you can see
anyone you like, as long as you tell people to apply to me.
. . . And you shall have a stove in your room, and you shall
sleep on the two mattresses of that poor woman " — he meant
the Queen — " who died on the scaffold. . . . They cost me a
great deal," he added ; " it was for having bought them that
I had six months' imprisonment in the Madelonnettes."
Richard's cook was a woman who deserved to live in a
better place ; ... it was she who brushed Her Majesty's boots
every morning. " And they were so dirty," she said, " because
of the dampness of the prison, that one would have thought
the Queen had just been walking in the Rue Saint-Honore."
She also described to me how the nobles who were at that
time imprisoned in the Conciergerie came every morning,
1 Published by Plon.
172
NOTES BY MONSEIGNEUR DE SALAMON
during their daily walk, to kiss the shoes of that unhappy
princess.
This was the same servant who, when she saw that the
Queen was going to the scaffold without either cap or fichu,
placed on her head a cotton cap that was quite new — for
she had herself put it on for the first time that morning,
and threw her own handkerchief round the Queen's
shoulders.i . . .
I secretly confided to this servant how much I recoiled from
the idea of going into my prison, and above all from being left
in there under lock and key. She lost no time in repeating
this to her master, and persuaded him to have the door
opened at daybreak.
On the first morning that I benefited from this measure a
pug dog came into the room as the door opened, and after
jumping on my bed and exploring it all over, ran out again.
This was the Queen's pug, which Richard had obtained pos-
session of, and treated with the greatest care. The dog's
object in coming in like that was to smell his mistress's mat-
tresses. I saw him behave in this way every morning at the
same hour, for three whole months, and in spite of all my
efforts I yfas never able to catch him. I continued to spend
the evenings with Richard, and we prolonged our conversa-
tions mitil far on into the night. He told me a number of
very interesting anecdotes about the victims he had seen go to
the scaffold.
It would take too long to repeat them here ; and moreover
I have forgotten many of them. I remember, however,
having heard him say that every evening the gendarmes had a
game of piquet in the Queen's presence. Leaning on the back
of a chair she would watch them play, or else would spend this
time in mending her pelisse of black taffetas.
Richard often went to see the Queen and ask her if there
were nothing she required. She never failed to express her
thanks ; only, according to Richard, she was a little too solemn
over it.
One day she asked him if he had ever kept a hotel.
' This excellent woman waa afterwards employed as cook by the
Marquise de Cri5qui. — {Note hy Mgr. de ScUamon.)
173
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
" Oh dear, no, Madame ! " he answered. " I have been in
prisons almost ever since I was born."
" I asked because everything you give me to eat is excel-
lent."
" I admit," replied Richard, " that I go to market myself,
and buy everything of the best that I can find there."
" Oh," answered the Queen, " how kind you are. Monsieur
Richard ! "
And Richard added that the Queen's favourite dish was
duck.
174
THE INQUIRY OF
MADAME SIMON-VOUET
(1836)
We have called attention to the fact that we owe the narrative
of Rosalie Lamorliere to the pen of Lafont d'Aussonne, the too-
imaginative biographer of Marie Antoinette. Our distrust of
that writer is so great that we should have hesitated to accept
Rosalie's story if we had not been in a position to prove its
authenticity.
From this point of view the following pages are doubly
interesting ; for they satisfy us as to the truth of Rosalie
Lamorliere's preceding narrative, while at the same time they
give us a glimpse of her old age.
It will, no doubt, surprise the reader to learn that Marie
Antoinette's daughter allowed the servant who helped her
mother during her last days to die in a hospital. Much has been
said of the proverbial ingratitude of the Bourbons. Perhaps
Rosalie Lamorliere may be regarded as exemplifying it and being
its victim.
And yet it is possible that we ought to look at these things
from a wider standpoint, and refrain from judging the past in the
positive, practical spirit of our own time. In those days men
devoted themselves to their King as we devote ourselves now to
our country ; loyalty and duty were words endowed with a
definite meaning, which admitted of no discussion. It may be
that these gratuitous sacrifices aroused nobler feelings than the
desire for promotion, or a pension, or for some empty honour.
In the history of the Revolution we find many examples of
these fine social virtues. How many royalists died for the
Monarchy — which took little interest in them and from which
they had nothing to expect — with a calmness that was not
175
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
entirely free from a sort of fanaticism^ suggestive of the faith of
the early martyrs ! Rosalie Lamorhere, in the heart of a servant,
had something of that rare disinterestedness that was the glory
of ancient France. Those who devoted themselves without any
thought of payment were the best of all ; and such was this
poor girl. Her memory is less injured by her having died in the
hospital than it would have been had her last years been spent
in the managing of some big lottery-office, post-office, or tobacco-
shop. None the less I should have preferred, on other grounds,
that the servant who shared her chemises with Marie Antoinette
had not been reduced, after the return of the Bourbons, to living
alone in a state that bordered on destitution. I carmot help
thinking of that good girl sewing into her shroud her last
remaining relics of the prisoner of the Temple, while Lepitre
who, as early as 1 793, had been generously paid for a devotion
he had not shown, was parading his pseudo-loyalty and his
imaginary courage, and receiving, as a reward for the grand
deeds he had not accomplished, the ribbon of the Legion of
Honour.
It was in connection with a book that appeared in 18.98 with
the title : Marie Antoinette devanl le XIX" siecle that Madame
Simon- Vouet undertook, about the year 18.S5, the inquiry of
which we are about to read an account.
The incompatibility of the various descriptions of Marie
Antoinette's imprisonment in the Conciergerie, and the
incredibility of the romantic episodes narrated by most of
the writers on the subject, decided me to confine myself to
the facts that came out in the trial, and to the incomplete
but truthful revelations of the counsel for the Queen.
To do this was to leave an immense gap in my work ; but
nevertheless I was determined not to fill it up with the
fictitious or forged papers that had appeared in connection
with this interesting period in Marie Antoinette's life. At
this time I had not seen the documents supplied to M. Lafont
d'Aussonne by Rosalie and Lariviere the turnkey.
While, in my perplexity, I was recalling the memories of
my youth, it occurred to me that when I was a schoolgirl at
Dijon with Madame le Jolivet, whose husband had died on
the scaffold and had been confined in the Conciergerie at the
176
INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON- VOUET
same time as the Queen, I had heard that lady speak warmly
of the humane way in which Richard the gaoler and his
wife treated the prisoners confided to their care. ... I used
to delight in questioning Madame le Jolivet about the Con-
ciergerie, and I learnt from her that Madame Richard often
allowed the prisoners to meet their relations and have meals
with them in a little back-room in her own quarters ; and it
was to the kindness of this excellent woman that Madame le
Jolivet owed the sad comfort of seeing her husband up to the
very last. In the course of these frequent visits she had
been struck with the faultless beauty of Madame Richard's
young cook, and the former had told her in confidence that,
as the Queen had been greatly attracted by this poor
village girl whose attentions were so delicately shown, she
had kept her to wait on the royal prisoner, for whom
Rosalie was always able to devise some slight diversion.
These recollections prompted me to make repeated inquiries,
both in Paris and Versailles, with regard to the Richard
family ; but all I learnt was that Madame Richai-d had been
murdered by a prisoner whose life had just been saved by
her exertions, and that after her death the beautiful cook
had left the Conciergerie.
However, I heard by chance from a man who was employed
in the palace of Versailles that Madame Boze, who had lived
in the palace till the revolution of July,^ was in the habit of
speaking admiringly of the way the cook at the Conciergerie
had behaved to the Queen, and said this girl was the only
creature whose heroic devotion had at all alleviated the
Queen's sufferings during the seventy-five days that she spent
in the Conciergerie. Madame Boze had known the Richard
family and Rosalie during the time of her husband's con-
finement in the prison ; she had kept in touch with them
• "The palace of Versailles contained (under the Restoration) an entire
population. The King granted rooms there to his old servants, and to
people with good recommendations. In addition to the Governor, who
naturally had his own quarters, there was a large number of families, and
one could easily pay twenty visits within the walls of the building. These
rooms were a little doiiceur presented to people who were ruined by the
Revolution. They lived there in peace, and were protected by the majesty
of the place. ... I knew many of these worthy people, and remember
them perfectly," — [Mimoires des autres, by the Comtesse Dash.)
177 X
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
after the country had become more settled ; but she had left
Versailles, and my informant did not know where she and her
two daughters had gone.
With nothing more definite than these vague clues I
applied to the mairie of Versailles, and two days later,
owing to the 'prompt and obliging inquiries of M. Varinot,
the assistant-secretary, I learnt that Madame Boze lived in
the village of Auteuil. I repaired thither on the following
day.
No sooner did Madame Boze and her excellent daughters
understand the object of my visit than they began to talk to
me with the confidence of old friends, and gave me several
details of the Queen's first years at Versailles. . . .
As for the Conciergerie, Madame Boze told me that the
cook, Rosalie Lamorliere, was living in the Hospital for
Incurables, in the Rue de Sevres, where I could question her
myself. . . . One might find materials for an extremely
interesting work in the details that Madame Boze gave me
with regard to this heroic girl Rosalie, who had neither
education nor money, nor interest, and yet exhibited the
noblest virtues in spite of her obscurity.
Leaving Madame Boze and her daughters at Auteuil, I
proceeded at once to the Hospital for Incurables.^ The
porter, whom I asked for Rosalie Lamorliere, told me that
she went out every morning and did not return till the
hour at which the provisions were served out. He added
that Rosalie had no intercourse with the people in the
house, never spoke to anyone, did not even respond to the
civilities of her companions, and would probably refuse to
enter into conversation with me.
This information was anything but encouraging ; but
nevertheless, as it was past eleven o'clock, I determined to
wait for the first distribution of food, which was to take
place at twelve, and meanwhile to walk to and fro before
the main entrance of the hospital. Soon I noticed a
number of good old dames walking as fast as their crutches
would carry them, and showing by their haste and their
' Madame Simon- Vouet'a visit to the Hospital for Incurables took place
on the 1st December, 1836.
178
INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON- VOUET
anxious faces that they were afraid of being late ; but not
one of these could possibly be Rosalie. At last, at five
minutes to twelve, I saw a woman come out of the little Rue
Saint-Romain and walk towards the hospital. She was as
poorly clad as those who had come before her, but her
fastidious neatness was singularly striking. In figure she was
slight and tall ; her steps were smooth and regular, and com-
bined with her air of serenity gave a touch of solemnity to
her gait. As she drew near to me her thoughtful expression,
which indicated an abstraction so profound that no external
emotion could touch her, made me very sure that this was
Rosalie ; so I went forward, and begged her to grant me a
few minutes' conversation in the hospital on a matter of
important business. I hoped that this might rouse her
curiosity, and I felt almost humiliated when, after glancing
at me indifferently, she said coldly, without even condescend-
ing to stand still : " You are mistaken, madame : I have no
business." " Oh, no," I cried, holding her back, " your name
is Rosalie Lamorliere ; it is not of you that I wish to speak ;
for pity's sake do not refuse what I ask ! " I do not know
what significance I put into these words, but Rosalie faltered,
and turned upon me a look so piercing that I should have
been disconcerted if my actions had been prompted by mere
curiosity. " Very well, come with me, madame," she said,
allowing me to keep her hand, which I had seized lest she
should escape me.
When I entered her tiny room I recognised the same
neatness and care that had struck me so much in Rosalie's
person. She gave me a chair, and remained standing before
me as though waiting for my questions ; but I was entirely
occupied in scrutinising her striking and still beautiful
features, which were so little altered by time that I should
have guessed her to be barely fifty years old. Rosalie
evidently was conscious that for the moment my attention
was fixed upon her, for my silent scrutiny seemed to cause
her some embarrassment. She recovered herself, however,
and said to me, with an air of indescribable gentleness and
emotion : " It is about the Conciergerie, is it not, madame,
that you wish to speak to me ? " I was delighted that she
179 N 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
had divined ray object, and described to her my interview
with the Boze ladies, who had known her at the Conciergerie ;
and I expressed my desire to hear from her own mouth the
details of all she had actually seen in that prison, my sole
aim being the Queen's vindication, which I was at that time
making my business. " I shall be happy," she answered,
" to do as you wish ; but I warn you that I can add nothing
to the statements I have already made to M. Lafont
d'Aussonne, one of the Queen''s biographers, who recorded my
story with the greatest accuracy, though I can neither read
nor write."
As it was from this statement that we derived most of the
details concerning the Conciergerie, we will omit from ou'-
dialogue with Rosalie everything that has already been
recorded elsewhere.
Myself.
... It must have been with the greatest interest that
the august daughter of Marie Antoinette listened at the
Tuileries to what you had to tell her, for had it not been foi
you she would never have known of the strength and heroism
with which those seventy-five days of martyrdom were
endured.
Rosalie.
I am still enjoying the bounty of Madame la Duchesse
d'Angouleme, though I have never been able to thank her for
it ; and I would gladly have renounced all the benefits that
have been heaped upon me for the sake of one sight of
Madame's daughter.
I noticed that Rosalie, in referring to Marie Antoinette,
never called her anything but Madame, and I asked her
whether, while she was waiting on the Queen, she had not
addressed her otherwise. " No," she answered. " And yet,
as I was often alone with Her Majesty, I might have addressed
her as my sovereign ; but I shrank from everything that
could recall her vanished gi-eatness. I even always concealed,
in her presence, the admiration with which her sublime courage
inspired me. Alas ! I would gladly have served her on my
knees, and yet I made a point of being no more outwardly
respectful to her than to my mistress, Madame Richard."
180
INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON-VOUET
Myself.
I have been told that the benefits heaped upon you by
Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme were limited to your
admission into this institution, and a pension of two hundred
francs which you lost at the revolution of July.
Rosalie.
True : but as I have done nothing to merit it I consider
myself very fortunate to be here for life, and beyond the
reach of want.
Myself.
You have not the least notion of how heroic your devotion
was. This does not surprise me, as I had been told it was
the case; but tell me, Rosalie, did not the friends who
appealed to Madame la Dauphine on your behalf try to
recover your little pension for you, by interesting the prin-
cesses of the present royal family in you ?
Rosalie.
Such an idea would not have occurred to them any more
than to me, for I have no claim to so remarkable a favour as
that.
Myself.
Queen Marie Antoinette was described to the people as a
violent, vindictive woman. Did you observe any signs of the
character that was attributed to her, during the cruel treat-
ment to which she was subjected in the Conciergerie ? Did
she seem inspired, as many of her enemies have written that
she was, by any thought or desire of revenge upon her
persecutors ?
Rosalie.
I never heard her complain either of her fate or of her
enemies, and the calmness of her words was always consistent
with that of her appearance. There was, however, in this
calmness of deportment somebhing so deeply impressive that
Madame Richard, and the gaoler Lebeau, and I, whenever we
entered her room, stood awe-struck at the door, and dared
not approach her till she begged us to do so in her gentle
voice and gracious manner.
181
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Myself.
Did she speak of Louis XVI. 's death, and did she seem to
fear the same fate .''
Rosalie.
She said she was fortunate, but I had reason to think she
imagined that she and her children would be sent to Austria.
Myself.
This persistent calmness of which you speak — did it not
arise from a sort of moral collapse or insensibility, the effect
of her sufferings and long imprisonment ?
Rosalie.
She was extremely sensitive, and never failed to notice our
most insignificant attentions. She carried, concealed beneath
her stays, a portrait of the young King and a curl of his
hair, wrapped up in a little yellow kid glove that the child
had worn ; and I noticed that she often hid herself behind
her wretched truckle-bed to kiss these things and weep over
them. One could speak to her of her misfortunes and
circumstances without her showing any emotion or depression,
but she wept continually at the thought of her deserted
children. During the ill-health that arose from the critical
state of her nerves, and ended only with her life, she begged
us not to apply for any medical aid for her, since no doctor
could remove the cause of her illness. She was searched
several times at the Conciergerie, and the watch she wore on
a very beautiful chain round her neck was cruelly taken from
her. Only a few days before her death, however, she was
still in possession of the locket containing the young King's
portrait. I do not know what became of it.
Myself.
Is it true, as certain authors of repute have declared in
writing, that the Queen washed and mended her own linen in
the Conciergerie ?
Rosalie.
She would have thanked Heaven if such a favour had been
granted her. But she was condemned to the most complete
182
INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON-VOUET
inactivity, and though she never complained I saw that she
suffered a great deal from this state of idleness.
Myself.
Several people have boasted of having corrupted the gaoler
and carried in various kinds of comforts to the Queen during
her last hours. May one put any faith in their assertions .''
Rosalie.
No ; for even if they could have viron over the gaoler
Lebeau, the most timid and nervous of men, the courts and
passages were filled with guards. Fouquier-Tinville and his
agents, moreover, entered the Queen's cell at any hour of the
day or night, and relentlessly made her rise on the pretext of
searching her bed, and upset all her things.
Myself.
Did you see Marie Antoinette again after she was con-
demned to death .''
Rosalie.
I went down to her cell by Lebeau's orders at about seven
o'clock. Two candles, still alight but nearly burnt out, were
on her little table : I presume they had been left there for
her all night. The Queen was lying on her bed in her
clothes ; she was still wearing her long black dress. A
constabulary officer was seated in the farthest corner of the
room, and seemed to be asleep. I approached Madame
tremblingly, and begged her to take some broth that was
quite ready on my range. She raised her head, looked at
me with her customary gentleness, and answered with a sigh :
" No, thank you, my girl : I need nothing more." And then
as I turned away crying, either because she was afraid she
had distressed me, or because she wished to see me again for
the last time, she called me back to say : " Very well, then,
Rosalie, bring me your broth 1 "
Myself.
And did she take the broth when you brought it ?
183
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Rosalie.
Only a spoonful or two. Then she begged me to help her
to dress. She had been told not to wear her mourning,
because it might excite the people and make them insult
her ; but we in the prison thought the real reason was that it
was feared her position as the King's widow might excite
interest. The Queen made no objection, and prepared her
white morning wrapper. She had also contrived to have
a clean chemise to die in, and I saw she meant to appear,
as she had appeared on the day of her trial, as decently
dressed as was possible in her state of complete destitution.
When she was about to undress she slipped into the space
between the wall and the truckle-bed, so as to be out of the
officer's sight ; but that young man came forward insolently,
and leant his elbows on the pillow in order to look at her.
The Queen blushed deeply, and hastily covered herself with
her large fichu ; then, clasping her hands, she turned beseech-
ingly to the officer. " Monsieur," she cried, " in the name
of decency let me change my linen without being watched ! "
Myself.
The man must have felt very much ashamed of his
behaviour ?
Rosalie.
On the contrary, he answered roughly that his orders were
not to lose sight of the prisoner for an instant. The Queen
raised her eyes to heaven, and then looked at me without
uttering a word, for I was accustomed to understand her
every glance, and I took up my position so as to hide her as
much as possible from the eyes of the officer. Then, kneeling
behind her bed, with every precaution that her modesty could
suggest, her Majesty succeeded in changing her clothes with-
out even uncovering her shoulders or arms.
When she was completely dressed she glanced round her
room with an expression of great anxiety, as though seeking
something that she feared she would not find. I was trying
in vain to guess the cause of her anxiety when I saw her
carefully fold up the soiled chemise she had just taken off,
184
INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON-VOUET
wrap it closely in one of her sleeves, and then with a look of
intense satisfaction slip the little bundle into a hollow space
that she had caught sight of in the wall, behind a strip of
the canvas.
Rosalie showed me the shroud into which she had sewn
the scraps of lawn given her by Marie Antoinette ; and when
I had touched these sacred relics with my lips, and clasped in
my arms the poor creature whose strong soul and heroic
spirit were dimly visible through the obscurity of her
position, I left the hospital, with a heart full of admiration
and sadness.
As I left Versailles at the beginning of 1838, and retired
to a place in the country a hundred leagues from Paris, it
was impossible for me to see Rosalie again, as I had hoped
and intended ; but before I went away niy husband was able to
ascertain that she was still alive, and enjoying perfect health
in the Hospital for Incurables.
185
THE NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT
WIDOW OF THE GAOLER AT THE CONCIERGEBIE PRISON
(Septembee 11th — OcTOBEu 16th, 1793)
When the Revolution broke out my husband was the gaoler
of the prison of La Force. I shared his labours and brought
up my children at his side. We witnessed the massacres of
September 2nd and 3rd. He was fortunate enough to be
the means of saving nearly two hundred prisoners, and he
escaped with them. But to our sorrow we were unable to
prevent the death of the most illustrious of the victims who
perished on those fatal days.^
The murderers took possession of our house, our furniture,
and our provisions, and as our object was to avoid seeing the
horrors by which they disgraced themselves in our presence
we abandoned to them everything that belonged to us. At
last, when nothing was left for them to destroy, they went
away.
My husband returned to his post, and soon the prison was
filled with all the faithful subjects of the King and the
legitimate Monarchy, whose opinions made them suspicious
characters in the eyes of the revolutionary tyrants. We
determined to deceive the tyrants and alleviate the lot of the
unfortunate prisoners, and sometimes our efforts were not
in vain.
At the time when the Queen was removed from the Temple
to the Conciergerie, a lady who came to La Force to bring
little comforts to one of the prisoners knew that we were
acquainted with Michonis, one of the inspectors of police at
' Madame de Lamballe.
186
NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT
that time. She confided to my husband her intention of
persuading the inspector to introduce into the Queen's cell a
certain Chevalier of Saint-Louis who wished to offer her his
services. Michonis was a man of honour and was full of
enthusiasm, and received the suggestion favourably. The
lady asked us to dine at her country-house at Vaugirard.^
The brave Chevalier was present, and all the preparations
were made to carry out the scheme. Michonis undertook to
secure Richard's consent. The interview took place as it was
described at the time, and I shall not repeat the details,
which neither I nor my husband witnessed, and which, more-
over, have been recorded in hundreds of other writings. To
our great distress this self-sacrificing and courageous deed
failed in its object. I never saw the lady again, nor the
Knight of Saint-Louis, and in the course of the twenty-four
years that have passed since we parted I have forgotten their
names. I have reason to believe they are no longer alive, for
it seems likely that they would have lost no time in coming
forward, now that heaven has granted us happier times at last.
Michonis was discharged from his post and put into prison.
We were very anxious, my husband and I, on account of the
revelations he might have made; but his loyalty and dis-
cretion were unfailing, and it is only right to pay this tribute
to his memory. Some time afterwards he died on the
scaffold, not ostensibly on account of this aff^air, but in
connection with an alleged conspiracy in the prison, in which
he was accused of being concerned.
It was not long before Richard's dismissal followed. We
were told of it by another inspector of police called Dangers,
who was equally our friend. He added that there was some
talk of replacing Richard by the horrible man Simon. My
husband shuddered at the bare idea, and determined, on the
spot, to propose himself for the post of the Queen's gaoler.
We had the honour at that time of knowing M. Hue and
M. Clery, and we informed them, separately, of our design,
in which they encouraged us. Dangers undertook to see
that our request was granted, and my husband was installed
in the Conciergerie on the 11th September, 1793.
' It was a girl called Dutilleul, Rougeville's mistress.
187
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
When he entered the Queen's room she said to him, with
the graciousness that never forsook her to the hour of her
death : " Ah, here you are, M. Bault ! I am dehghted that
it is you who have come here." My husband had never had
the honour of being in Her Majesty's presence, and could not
conceive by what miracle she could have heard of a trans-
action that had been so promptly and secretly carried out.
We regarded the whole series of circumstances as a boon
especially ordained by Providence. It made me happy to
know that our attentions would be favourably received,
and we redoubled our efforts to make them also useful.
We asked no greater reward. If there were others who
did not shrink from putting a price on their services, it was
well known that my husband's devotion was inspired by
motives too lofty to be affected by mercenary aims.
It may easily be imagined that the adventure of Michonis
and Richard had caused the prison rules to be carried out
much more strictly than before. My husband was told that
the accused, like the other prisoners, was to be supplied with
the coarsest prison fare. " I can't allow that," he answered ;
" she is my prisoner, and I am answerable for her with my
life ; some attempt might be made to poison her, and no one
but myself must arrange about her meals. Not a drop of
water shall come in here without my permission." This was
considered reasonable, and thenceforward I and my daughter
were responsible for the meals. They were nothing re-
markable, but they were, at least, wholesome and decent.
The Queen was no longer given dirty water in an unwashed
glass, as had hitherto been the brutal and insolent custom.
We gave especial attention to this point, with regard to
which she was extremely fastidious.
There were still some kind hearts left that were not
insensible to pity. A market-woman came one day to bring
my husband a melon for her good Queen. Another offered
some peaches. Everything reached its proper destination,
bvit to avoid being blamed it was necessary to be very
cautious.
Similar incidents had already taken place in Richard's
time, according to M. Hue.
188
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189
NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT
I never entered the Queen's room throughout the whole
time that my husband was m charge of her. In order to
appear more particular^ he had made a rule that I was not
to go in, and had reserved to himself alone the right of doing
so. Moreover, he was always accompanied by two gendarmes,
who watched his every movement. The worst kind of men
were always carefully chosen to escort him.^ Often the
inspectors of police, or the public prosecutor, or even some of
the members of the Comite de Surete Generale would come
themselves on a visit of inspection. It was then that the
most odious searches took place. One day they caught sight
of an old piece of carpet that had been fastened, by my
husband's orders, along the Queen's bed to keep out the
dampness of the wall, and they expressed their dissatisfaction.
"But don't you see," said my husband, "that its object is to
deaden the sound, and prevent anything from being heard in
the next room ? " They were greatly struck by his intelligence.
" Quite right," they said ; " you did well." To deceive these
wretches it was necessary to talk as they did.
The unhealthiness of the room was such that Her Majesty's
black dress, the only one she had as a change from the white
dress she brought from the Temple, fell to pieces. My
eldest daughter, whom I lost five years ago, put a new hem
to it. I gathered up the old scraps and gave them away to
several people who eagerly begged me for them.
My daughter was kept constantly employed in mending
linen and other garments, stockings, and shoes, which wore
out completely. The care of the room, and everything to do
with it, was entrusted to her ; she alone was allowed to enter
for this purpose ; and it was also her office to arrange the
Queen's simple coiffure every day — a duty from which she
was not exempted even in the very hour of the final martyr-
dom. I remember all these details as though the objects
connected with them were still before me. The Queen had
only three fairly fine chemises, of which one was trimmed
with very beautiful Mechlin lace.
They were given to her, one at a time, every ten days.
This matter was attended to by the registrar's office of the
^ They were not, then, always the same, as Lafont d'Aussonne declared.
190
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Revolutionary Tribunal. No one would have dared to
increase the precise number of her garments by so much as
a handkerchief. The Queen occupied herself in writing out
a list of her linen on the wall with the point of a pin. She
also wrote other things there, but immediately after her
departure a thick coat of paint was put over everything,
and so it was all effaced.
I have laid stress on these details — which may seem too
minute — in order to show how useless and insane it would
have been to attempt to supply the Queen openly with the
least thing in addition to what was provided by the odious
prison rules. That people who were brave and charitable,
but also retiring and unknown, may have succeeded in taking
her some object of the first importance, especially if it were
inconspicuous, I am as ready to believe as though I had seen
it — although it was before we went to the Conciergerie —
because not only is the story quite credible, but it is founded
on unexceptionable evidence. But that anyone should have
succeeded in supplying her with a large quantity of luxuries,
or even of ordinary comforts, it is impossible to imagine.
The articles would not have reached their destination ; they
would have vanished in the office of the Revolutionary
Tribunal. The gaoler himself would not have been able, with-
out the greatest danger, to secure the smallest portion for his
prisoner. A single incident will suffice to show how com-
pletely it would have been beyond his power.
The Queen had wished to have an English cotton counter-
pane. My husband undertook to speak to Fouquier-Tinville
about it. " How dare you ask for such a thing ? " cried the
monster, foaming at the mouth with rage. " You deserve to
be sent to the guillotine." We were filled with consternation.
We provided the best substitute we could for the coverlet, and
I had a mattress made of the best wool I could find, and
replaced the prison mattress with it. It would be impossible
to me to be false to the truth, or to boast of what I did not
do, or rather of what I was not able to do.
It has been my lot to see pious resignation and heroic
constancy carried to the pitch of perfection, but there is no
disguising the fact that it was Heaven's will that the Queen
191
NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT
of France should drink the cup of sorrow to the dregs, and I
shall never cease to regret that I did so little to temper its
bitterness. Alas ! we coxild not save her life, but we at least
endeavoured that her last moments might be undisturbed,
and her royal person safe from every insult.
In the meantime my husband was trying, with the most
eager solicitude, to divine the Queen's smallest wishes. He
devised various pretexts for visiting her more frequently.
She had entrusted him with the care of her hair, and he
arranged it every morning as best he could.
If the most respectful care could have taken the place of
skill the Queen would have been satisfied, and as it was she
was good enough to appear so. She took this opportunity
to say a few of those kind things that none could express
more gracefully than she. One day she said to him, in
allusion to his name : "I am going to call you bon, because
that is what you are, and it is worth even more than being
beau (Bault).'" Another time, as she thanked him, she added :
"I shall never be fortunate enough to reward you for what
you do for me." She never failed to ask him for news of her
children and of Madame Elizabeth. Sometimes my husband
was able to answer her when he had news through M. Hue,
who had kept up a correspondence with the Temple, and
had the courage, too, to make his way into the Conciergerie
from time to time. Her goodness, her sweetness, her sensi-
bility, combined with so much courage, moved us to tears.
We were glad when we were able to weep in the solitude of
our own rooms, for it would have been imprudent to show
any emotion before the savage satellites of the Commune,
who haunted us throughout the day.
The Queen, surrounded as she was by many dangers, was
always afraid of compromising the people who seemed to
take an interest in her fate. She was obliged to control her
features, her words, and even her slightest gestures. A glance,
a word, a sign, would have sufficed to make her suspected of
an understanding with her faithful guardian, and all would
have been lost. But one day she thought she had sufficient
mastery over her own movements to slip into my husband's
hand, without being seen, something that she had secretly
192
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
prepared. The action, however, was either not prompt enough
or not sufficiently concealed, and the two gendarmes, perceiving
it, sprang upon my husband, crying in a fury : " What has
she just given you ? " He was obliged to open his hand and
show what had just been put into it. It was a pair of gloves
and a lock of hair,^ which were instantly seized and taken to
Fouquier's office.
We did not doubt that the Queen intended these things
to be given to her children, and we shared to the full her
disappointment on this occasion.
But the Queen was not discouraged, for a mother's heart is
ingenious and its strength is increased by sorrow. The idea
came to her to draw out some of the threads of the carpet
attached to her bed, and with them to plait a kind of garter
with the help of two tooth-picks, the only implements that
her wretched persecutors had left to her, for they had refused
to allow her knitting-needles. When the work was done she
let it drop one day at her feet, as my husband was entering
her room. He instantly divined the Queen's intention, and
as he went quickly towards her pulled out his handkerchief,
which seemed to slip from his hand. It covered the garter,
and he picked up both together. We kept this precious plait
religiously, till I gave it to M. Hue when he was about to
accompany Her Royal Highness Madame to Vienna. He
gave it to her when he joined her at Huningue, as he was
good enough to record in his work entitled: Demi^res annees
du regne et de la vie de Louis XVI, page 352.
In order that the gendarmes might no longer stay in the
Queen's room, where they spent the day drinking and playing
cards and smoking, with nothing between her and them but a
screen that divided the room into two parts, my husband,
' As early as March 22nd, 1814, the Oazette de France recorded this
incident, which I had described long before to the writer of the article.
In 1816 the gloves and the lock of hair were discovered in Courtois' house
with the Queen's letter, and thus Providence allowed the truth of my
assertions to be verified by events. These two articles had passed from
Fouquier's hands into those of Robespierre, and Courtois had found them,
together with the letter, in Robespierre's house when his papers were
searched. Courtois did not mention this discovery in his report ; he held
back the information, as he confessed himself, for a more favourable
occasion. — [2fote by Madame Bavit.)
193 o
NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT
pleading his responsibility, had put the key in his own pocket.
Thenceforward the two soldiers sat at the outer door, and
their oaths and curses and blasphemies no longer oflFended the
ears of the august prisoner, nor interrupted her religious
meditations. She could not work, as I have already said,
owing to the lack of light and of means of employment.
She read books, her favourite being The Voyages of Captain
Cook, which my husband had procured for her. The greater
part of her time was devoted to prayer. She was often seen
engaged in this pious occupation, which filled nearly every
moment of her life, especially after the memorable incident
that occurred in Richard's time.^
In spite of the presence of the two sentries posted mider
the window, the prisoners who were allowed to walk about
the yard were able, by talking very loudly, to inform the
Queen of anything that was likely to interest her. It was
thus that she knew beforehand the day on which she was to
appear before the Tribunal.
I shall only say one word concerning that horrible cata-
strophe. My husband's agony at that time was a thousand
times more terrible than when, a few years later, the last
moment of his own life was drawing near. He knew every
detail, minute by minute, of that monstrous trial with its
endless insults, which made the very sentence of death itself
appear almost a boon. The night was far advanced when the
Queen left the Tribunal. Her courage was unshaken, her
bearing noble as ever, but modest and resigned. My husband
was present when she returned : she asked him for writing-
materials, and was instantly obeyed. He said to me that
very day : " Your poor Queen wrote a letter and gave it to
me, but I was not able to deliver it to the person to whom it
was addressed : I was obliged to take it to Fouquier."
To us, as to the whole French nation, the fate of this relic
of maternal love, and piety, and courage, was long unknown.
It has now been given back to us in one of those wonderful
1 I knew even then that a worthy priest, calling himself Charles, braved
everything to enter the prison and give the oonsolatious of religion to the
prisoners ; but I had not the honour of knowing him. I have since learnt
that this courageous apostle of the Faith was M. I'abbe Magnin, now the
Cur6 of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. — {Note by Madame Batdt.)
194
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
ways that are only possible to omnipotence, and are proofs
of the unspeakable goodness of Heaven.^
Such are the chief circumstances of that unhappy time, as
far as I can recall them.
They sank so deeply into my heart that I have hitherto
refrained from recording them in writing. I have now been
begged to do so, in order to supplement the deficiencies and
correct the inaccuracies of certain other narratives that have
been hastily published, with no foundation but vague tradition.
I have obeyed with no other object than to uphold the truth.
At my age and in my position one can have no other motive.
This is not an account of circumstances to which I am a
stranger : it is my evidence with regard to events that con-
cerned me personally : it is a document wherein I have not
hesitated to record the facts to which I am one of the last
remaining witnesses. I do it for the satisfaction of my
conscience, the honour of my husband's memory, and the
honour of my children, and, above all, I do it to express the
devotion and homage due to the most exalted virtue that has
for many a long year done honour to the dignity of the throne
and earned the rewards of Heaven.
' See page 225.
196 o %
THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION IN THE
CONCIERGERIE
There were many faithful royalists whose minds were greatly
exercised with regard to the Queen's fate while she was
imprisoned in the Conciergerie, and there can be no doubt that
attempts were made to rescue her. The Basset trial, of which
the original documents have been published by M. Campardon ;
the affair of the carnation ; the million promised by Batz ; and
the evidence of Madame la Duchesse d'Angoul^me herself, are
incontrovertible proofs of the existence of various plots whose
details we do not know, but whose reality we cannot deny. It
is equally certain that several people succeeded, by means of
bribes or otherwise, in making their way either into the Temple
or into the prison of the Law Courts ; such as Jarjaye, Mrs.
Atkins, RougevUle, Michonis — who, it is true, was obliged by
his ofBce to visit the Conciergerie — the painters Prieur and
Kocharsky, Hue, the Citoyenne Laboullde,^ and perhaps others.^
1 " The wife of the hair-dresser Laboull^e, 83 Rue de Richelieu, whom the
Queen to the day of her death called the little LabmilUe, often succeeded
in visiting Marie Antoinette when she was in prison." — A. Challambl.
Cliibs contre-revohuionnaires.
^ In a little volume published in 1815 and probably quite forgotten.
Marie Antoinette d'Autriche, reine de France, by L. de Saint-Hugues, we
find this strange anecdote :
" Mme. Guyot, head nurse of the Hospice de I'ArchevSch^, had formed
a project for rescuing Marie Antoinette. To this end she had caused a
request to be made, on the pretext of illness, for the removal of Her
Majesty to the hospital established in the Archbishop's Palace, where
M. Ray, with the help of M. Giraud, the surgeon at the H6tel-Dieu, had
already broken and wrenched away the bar of a window opening into a
covered way that led to the Seine, in the direction of the lie Saint-Louis.
The barbarous Pouquier-Tinville, fearing lest his victim should escape
him, would never consent to the transference. Then Mme. Guyot, in
default of anything better, determined to brave every danger and take to
the unhappy Queen some of those absolute necessaries of life which she
196
THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION
It is therefore quite credible that if so many people were
ready to risk their lives on the mere chance of effecting a rescue,
there should be others whose devotion to the Queen took the
form — with far more likelihood of success — of devising a way to
provide her with the consolations of religion.
There is no need for us to recall how persecution had given
fresh life to the piety of a large section of the population. The
monastic houses had been dissolved, it is true ; but the monks,
and above all the nuns, continued to live in community in little
groups, hiding themselves with difficulty, contriving to attend
Mass regularly, and resigning themselves to the martyrdom that
they considered inevitable. These were excellent conditions for
the development of heroism. The man who daily prepares him-
self to die is surprised when death delays, and finally defies it.
I believe that in the history of the Terror one might easily find
many examples of this kind of courage.
But indeed the facts as we know them do not need the support
of this theory. We know that among the renmants of the
religious congregations much anxiety was felt with regard to
Marie Antoinette's approaching end : prayers were offered up
for her : at Orleans, which was a notable centre of Catholicism
during the Terror, the Church ordained nine days of prayer : and
the Sisters of La Charit6-Saint-Roch were tormented by the
thought that the prisoner, who for more than a year had been
deprived of all religious aid, might any day be put to death with-
out having received a single word of consolation.
was altogether without.^ She contrived to make the acquaintance of the
gaoler's wife : and having done so begged her to accept some light
refreshment, and ended by bewildering her with some sherry that was a
present from a member of the Senate, who is still alive. Forgetting her
responsibilities the woman fell asleep. Mme. Guyot then took to Marie
Antoinette a white wrapper with trimming on it (this was the last dress
worn by the Queen), and with it all the garments that were likely to be
useful to her. Mme. de Blamont, the last heiress of the house of
Chamboran— who was nineteen or twenty years old, had been enceinte for
some months, and was condemned to death for no reason — was to be
rescued with the Queen. Mme. de Blamont afterwards recovered her
liberty.
' ' The most careful search was made to discover the person who had
dared to take these clothes to the Queen, but happily it was in vain. The
courage and loyalty to the illustrious house of Bourbon, exhibited on this
occasion by Mme. Guyot, are recorded in the first edition of Les llluttres
We have not been able to discover the book to which L. de Saint-Hugues
here alludes.
1 See the evidence of the widow Bault on this point, page 191.
197
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
These simple, devout creatures did not know that there were
those within the walls of the prison itself whose minds were full
of the same pious thoughts.
There was in the Conciergerie at that time an eminent priest,
the Abbe Emery, the head of the Seminary of Saint-Sulpice,
whose influence over most of the Parisian clergy was very great.
He had been imprisoned on the 3rd August, 1793, and continued
from his cell, assisted from without by his friend M. Bdchet, to
carry on the functions of a director and to fulfil the duties of his
ministry.! The thing seems incredible : no matter : it is proved
by incontestable evidence.
The Abb6 Elmery received frequent visits in the Conciergerie.
Thfe Abbe Montaigu, and other refractory priests, had devised
some way of entering the prison regularly and taking to the
prisoner a pyx full of wafers, wrapped in a white handkerchief ;
so that from the beginning of August 1793 until after the 9th
Thermidor not a day passed without the Mass being celebrated
in the Conciergerie — that Conciergerie which Fouquier-Tinville
imagined to be so closely guarded and so impenetrable.*
1 "In 1794 M. Bfchet, director of the Seminary of Saint-Sulpice, who
in Monaeigneur de Juign6's name fulfilled the functiona of vicar-general,
thought he ought to organise the work of miniatering to the condemned
prisonera, and a priest was chosen for each day of the week. The Abb6
de Sarabuoy the elder, then living at Milhaut, took Sunday ; the Abb6
Renaud, Thursday ; the Abb6 Philibert, Wednesday. The names of the
other priests are forgotten, but it is believed that the Abb6 K6ravenan
was of their number." (From the unpublished manuscript of one of these
priests, the Abb6 Philibert Bruyan, who died Bishop of Grenoble. Quoted
by the Abb^ Delarc, in Uilglise de Paris pBndant la Revolution. )
We know that the Abb6 K^ravenan, who afterwards became the curi of
Saint-6ermain-des-Pr6s, gave absolution to Danton at the last.
^ On this point we may quote the valuable testimony of one of the
prisoners, the young soldier Barth^lemy de la Roche, whose letters,
written in the Conciergerie itself, have been preserved.
"We want for nothing here," he says, "in the way of help and
consolation of every description. They bring us from the town the result
of the precious covenant (the Communion) ; picture our joy.
" We have been expecting our trial for three months and a half, and yet
it does not come. God be praised ! . . . I have not yet had five minutes
of weariness in my new abode. Moreover, I and all who share my
sentiments are treated here with the most absolute respect, even by those
who profess to be freethinkers. Some of them keep up this character
even on the scaffold. Poor souls ! they must be greatly surprised when
they are suddenly c?ti off and find themselves in the presence of God — they
to whom nothing could be so unexpected as this solemn appearance on the
scene. . .
" . . If I go on my long journey soon I make you my sole legatee, and
as one knows beforehand on what day one is to go up, I will do up a
parcel and have it left in the town, and will put in it the watch (of
198
THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION
Thanks to M. Emery this " service of souls/' as it has been
called, was not only organised in the Conciergerie, but in all the
prisons of Paris.
By means of his numerous acquaintances and his influence over
the scattered clergy he contrived ways of enabling priests to
penetrate everywhere, and did a truly apostolic work. When
condemned prisoners were unable to receive the Sacrament
before setting out for the scaffold they were informed, by some
reliable means, that at a given point of the fatal journey a priest
would be posted by the roadside to give them absolution from
where he stood. The Abbes de Voisins, de K6ravenan, de Sam-
bucy, and other former students of Saint-Sulpice devoted them-
selves habitually to this dangerous ministry. M. Emery had
become the Chaplain-in-Chief of the prisons of the Republic.
Now this saintly ecclesiastic, whose influence was so powerful,
was not unaware that Marie Antoinette was imprisoned near
him. He himself often described how, being lodged above the
Queen and having found a way of corresponding with her through
some of the other prisoners, he succeeded in getting a note to
her one day, in which he said : " Prepare to receive absolution
to-night at twelve o'clock, I shall be at your door and shall pro-
nounce the sacramental words over you.' And at the appointed
hour he was actually outside the Queen's door ; he heard the
sighs of that unhappy princess, and conversed with her for some
moments before he gave her absolution." i
P. d'Hervilee), with my little library, my crucifix, and my rosary. You
will find in the parcel my last wishes, a little manuscript of which the
original was found on a priest who was executed. I copied it for you.
This writing will give you infinite satisfaction."
These last wishes are worthy of being preserved. This is what B. de la
Boche wrote on the eve of his condemnation :
" I believe that the man who denounced us and was boarding with our
ladies is in a state of destitution. I should like you to hand over a
hundred livres to him. He has several children, and has probably not
received that sum, which was what he hoped to get for his denunciation."
— (See Un Episode de la Terreur, by the Comte Anatole de S^gur, 1864.)
' Vie de M. ^iknery, by the Abb6 Gosselin.
The Abb^ Emery is one of the most astonishing figures of this as-
tonishing epoch. He was sixty years old when he was imprisoned, and
during his long confinement " he was perpetually preparing himself to die
by preparing others ; and yet he did not die. Three times he touched the
foot of the guillotine, so to speak, and three times he came back alive.
When he was free he often stopped to look at the fatal instrument, in
order to accustom his eyes and his mind to it ; and it is said that when he
was in prison he had a little model of it made, with the same object." —
(De S^gur, loc. cit. )
" At the Conciergerie he carried on the life of the Seminary,'' says
199
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
These thingSj however, were not known outside the prison
walls, and this explains why Marie Antoinette's unknown friends,
feeling that the tragic cUmax was approaching, determined in
spite of the apparently insurmountable obstacles to arrange an
interview for her with a non-juring priest.
Let us first take a cursory view of the facts : we will discuss
their authenticity afterwards.
A poor girl called Mademoiselle Fouch6 offered herself for the
adventurous attempt : she obtained permission from the gaoler
Richard to enter the Queen's cell : she explained to the prisoner
the object of her mission, and a few days later she brought with
her the Abbd Magnin, dressed as a layman. The Abb6 returned
to the Conciergerie several times. The affair of the carnation
and the consequent arrest of Richard put an end to his visits for
a time, but the new gaoler Bault was no stricter than his prede-
cessor. The interviews between the Queen and the priest
continued, and the latter one night brought with him the sacred
objects necessary for the celebration of the Mass, in the course
of which Marie Antoinette received the Communion. We know
that she was watched by two gendarmes. The priest spoke to
them for a moment, and the two men, whose names were Lamarche
and Prud'homme, took part with their prisoner in the religious
ceremony. A few days before the 1st of October the Abbe
Magnin fell ill, and Mademoiselle Fouch6 went away to Orleans.
She only returned to Paris on the evening of the very day of the
execution. Such, in few words, is the story told by the Abbe
Magnin and Mademoiselle Fouch6 : we shall read it presently in
full, and it is therefore unnecessary to give the details here.
another historian: "devoting to his prayers and meditations the usual
hours of the Seminary . . . reading, writing, studying with more ardour
and consistency even than he had ever shown before, and this in the midst
of all the uproar ; at the hours of prayer or study stopping his ears with
bread-crumb, at the recreation-hour unstopping them again, and then —
gentle, gay, benevolent, cultivated — throwing himself into the con-
versations that were sometimes so delightful in the prison. He soon
acquired over everyone round him an authority to which he had never
aspired. When the prisoners in the same room as himself chose a
president it was he that was elected.
According to his friends, who left some notes on his life, ' ' his qualities
as a Superior made themselves felt even in his state of bondage." —
Champagny. iltudt aur M. ^Imery.
We may add that M. Emery, whom the gaolers themselves did not
gainsay, obtained leave to pass the night with the condemned prisoners in
the waiting-room, to prepare them for death. — (Un ipisode de la Terreur,
by the Comte Anatole de S6gur.)
200
THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION
We will only attempt to answer the objections to which these
narratives have given rise.
In the first place it seems to us that the evidence to which we
have referred above, touching the religious ceremonies performed
in the prisons of the Terror^ is enough to save the Abb6 Magnin's
story from all appearance of incredibility. The Mass was said
every day in the Conciergerie, the non-juring priests went in
and out almost at will, and Fouquier-Tinville and his masters, the
members of the Committees of Public Safety and General Security,
were evidently not in the secret ; but Richard the gaoler, being
either merciful or corruptible, tacitly authorised this infraction
of the rules, for it is impossible that he could have been ignorant
of it. Why should he have denied to the Queen a consolation
that the other prisoners enjoyed? This man Richard was
certainly not a very stem gaoler, and Mademoiselle Fouch6
cannot have had very much difficulty in obtaining permission for
the Abb6 Magnin to enter, since M. Emery was visited every
day by the Abb6 Montaigu, Philibert, and de Sambucy. As the
introduction of a priest into the prison was not an unknown
occurrence we may feel quite safe in accepting Mademoiselle
Fouche's assertion on the subject.
And is the celebration of the Mass in the cell any more
incredible ? By no means. If it is true — and on this point, as
we have seen, the witnesses are many — that M. Emery was
allowed to console the condemned prisoners up to the very end,
and even to pass the night with them, it must have been equally
easy to authorise the Abb6 Magnin to stay for an hour or two in
the Queen's cell. The reading of an office in an isolated room
from which everyone was excluded presented fewer risks than
the performance of an almost public ceremony amid all the stir
and movement of the prison.
The two gendarmes on guard received absolution and knelt
before the altar with the Queen : this seems to be the finishing-
touch to the incredibility of the affair ! But may we not meet
this objection by pointing out that it was to Richard's interest
that night to choose warders whose republicanism was rather
doubtful .'' Are they more incongruous in this connection than
the Knight of Saint Louis who in this same Conciergerie prayed
for two hours every day, or than the young soldier who read the
Combat Spiritual and the Introduction A la vie devote ?^ Was there
1 Un ipisode de la Terreur, by the Comte Anatole de S6gur.
201
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
not an immense majority of those who, even while they welcomed
the Revolution, were still in their hearts faithful to the religion
of their youth ? Whatever manner of men they were, it was
necessary for the gendarmes guarding the Queen to choose, in
circumstances such as these, between two alternatives : either to
inform their superiors of what they saw, or to take part in the
moving scene that was being enacted under their eyes. One can
hardly picture them talking and laughing and smoking their pipes
at such a solemn moment.
There was one thing that inclined us at first to reject the
episode of the Communion of the gendarmes, and with it the
whole of the Abbe Magnin's narrative ; and this was that the
two men were said to have died on the scaffold in the course of
the Revolution. Now we could find no mention of Lamarche nor
of Prud'homme in any of the very complete records of the Revo-
lutionary Tribunal. These two names, then, it appeared, had
been invented for the requirements of the story, which in our
opinion was entirely upset and demolished by the results of this
inquiry.
Well, these men Lamarche and Prud'homme did really exist
after all ! They were in the same company of gendarmerie, and
were condemned to death, but not by the Revolutionary Tribunal.
We discovered the documents connected with their trial among
the papers of the Military Commission appointed after the
Insurrection of Prairial.i
We have no fundamental reason, then, to disbelieve in the
Queen's Communion in the cell of the Conciergerie ; but it
^ National Archives, W^ 546. Be the twenty-three gendarmes accused
of deserting their post at the Arsenal.
Jean-Baptiste Prud'homme, twenty-nine years of age, native of
Jonquereuil, department of the Aube, gendarme of the 1st division, company
of La Bille.
Charles Antoine Lamarche, twenty-five years of age, native of Mire-
court, department of the Marne, gendarme of the 1st division, company of
La Bille.
Convicted : 1st, of having basely deserted, without any kind of
resistance, the important post of the Arsenal, which had been entrusted
to them, and of having left there the people's representative, Dentzel,
exposed to the fury of the rebels.
2ndly. Of having taken refuge in the Faubourg Antoine on the 4th of
this month, and mixed with the rebels, among whom they were discovered
and arrested when the Faubourg was stormed.
3rdly. Of having by this conduct taken au active part in the rebellion
and in the existing conspiracy, and of having exposed the lives of good
citizens and endangered the public welfare.
202
THE QUEEN'S COMMXJNION
remains to us to inquire what degree of confidence we may
place in the narratives of Mademoiselle Fouch6 and the Abb6
Magnin.
The Abb6 Magnin, having been before the Revolution the
director of the little Seminary of Autun, became after the Terror
the priest of the parish of Saint-Roch. In the days of the Con-
sulate he informed the Duchesse d'Angouleme that the Queen,
shortly before her death, had received the Sacrament. Marie
Antoinette's daughter — who was so cautious in regard to every-
thing concerning her parents' memory, so mistrustful of the
innumerable people who boasted of having alleviated the suffer-
ings of the royal captives in their imprisonment, so incredulous
before the outburst of "retrospective devotion" that she refused
the heart of " the child of the Temple," which Dr. Pelletan had
removed at the time of the autopsy — Marie Antoinette's daughter
must surely, in any matter that concerned her mother's last hours,
have had all the evidence put before her. On the l6th October,
1814<, she received the Abbe Magnin, and it is plain that she did
not regard him as an impostor, since two years later she pro-
cured for him the cure of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, the royal
parish.
This excellent priest, however, never attempted to boast of his
noble conduct. He had said nothing of it when the Comte de
Robiano's pamphlet, of which we shall speak presently, revealed
to the world the fact of the Queen's Communion, which until
then had been known only to a few individuals.
There was but one person who attempted a refutation. Was
this person, as one would naturally suppose, a man whom circum-
stances had placed in a position to know everything that went on
in the Conciergerie .'' Not at all. The man who flung himself so
eagerly into this discussion was Lafont d'Aussonne, late cure of
Drancy in the diocese of Versailles, who described himself as an
ex-priest, now a manufacturer of Prussian blue. He was the author
of a book on Marie Antoinette, in which among other enormities
he declared, without giving any evidence or taking the trouble
to support his assertion in a note, that the Queen died from a fit
of apoplexy on her way from the Law Courts to the Place de la
R6volution, and that the executioner had only beheaded a
corpse !
Such is the historian who, with unaccountable animosity,
attacked the Abbe Magnin's revelations. He published a
203
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
virulent pamphlet called : Thejictitions Communion of the Queen,
supported hy means of a fiction, in which the cure of Saint-
Germain-rAuxerrois and Mademoiselle Fouch6 were violently
accused of imposture.^
When the Abb6 Magnin was informed by one of his friends ^
of the publication of this brochure he determined not to answer
it. It required nothing less than the intervention of a high
dignitary of the diocese of Paris to persuade him to make a
solemn declaration of the truth of his assertions. The Abbe
Desjardinsj cure of Foreign Missions and afterwards vicar-general
of Paris, put it before him as a positive duty to prove the
authenticity of the fact contested by Lafont d'Aussonne ; and
" on the following day, which was a Sunday, M. Magnin entered
the pulpit between vespers and compline, and in the presence of
a numerous congregation protested with charitable moderation
against so revolting an imputation. He described the incident
and the chief circumstances attending it. Then turning to the
altar he raised his hands and declared before God that all he
had just said was absolute truth." ^
Lafont d'Aussonne did not consider himself beaten. In the
following year (1825), he published a Memorial to the King on the
importance of the spurious matter dealing with the Conciergerie.
The Abb6 Magnin did not answer him, but contented himself
with addressing to the King a memorial in manuscript, of which
we shall presently read the entire text. In it he produced the
conclusive evidence of various witnesses, among them being the
' The first and most plausible of Lafont d'Aussonne's objections is
derived from the Queen's Will itself : Not knowing whether there are any
priests of this religion (Catholic) still alive, and moreover the place in which
I am would be too dangerous for them. It would seem then that Marie
Antoinette herself declared that she had not seen a priest in the Con-
ciergerie, and that the Abb6 Magnin's story is therefore nothing but an
imposture.
But we may meet this by saying that these words of the prisoner are
completely in accord with the assertions of MU^. Fouche, who, being
obliged to go away to Orleans during the first days of October, had
suddenly given up her visits to the Conciergerie. The Queen, seeing no
more of her consolers, may have thought they had been arrested and
imprisoned, and did not wish to compromise those who had shown her so
much devotion. And moreover we know that, when the cur6 Girard came
on the morning of the 16th October to offer his services to the prisoner, she,
knowing he had taken the oath, answered that she had no need of his
assistance. Divine mercy has provided for me, she said.
= M. Troche.
^ La Communion de la Seine Marie Antoinette d, la Conciergerie. — (See
the journal Le Monde for March Slst, 1863.)
204
THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION
widow Bault, who certified that she knew he had come to the
prison during the Queen's confinement in the Conciergerie, to
give the prisoner the consolations of religion.^
1 (See p. 220.)
The paper L'Ami de la Religion for December 19, 1843, oontaina an in-
teresting study of the Abb6 Magnin. We quote from it the following
account of his last years.
" The Abb6 Magnin zealously managed his pariah until 1831. The
Parisian clergy were at that time surrounded by enemies who, though few
in number, made up for this by their violence, and made no secret of their
hostile schemes. Ever since the death of the Duo de Berry it had been the
constant custom to celebrate a service in his memory on the 14th February.
Some royalists, who thought this pious custom should not be abolished on
account of the change of Government . . . went in search of M. Magnin.
The matter was urgent, for it was then Thursday, and it was wished that
the service should be performed on Monday the 15th February since the 14th
was a Sunday. It did not occur to the vicar of Saint-Gerraain-l'Auxerrois
to inform the ecclesiastical authorities, and he read the service on the
appointed day. Everything went off quietly, and the clergy had already
returned to the vestry when a young man, prompted by some unknown
motive, thought of fastening a portrait of the Due de Bordeaux to the
catafalque. As soon as M. Magnin had been informed of this imprudent
action he hurried to remove the portrait, but it was too late. A crowd,
composed of members of the lowest mob, but prompted by more important
persons, rushed into the church, destroyed everything in it— not even
sparing the ancient tombs — and in a few moments turned this holy fane
into a scene of horror. They devastated the vestry in the same way, and
then proceeded to the presbytery, the cwri'a dwelling. There they spared
nothing : furniture, books, linen, vestments, everything was stolen or
destroyed. They looked for M. Magnin himself, intending to seize him
and throw him into the river ; but he had cautiously hidden himself, and
for that day was able to escape the fury of the rioters.
" The authorities made Mt Magnin responsible for this event, by which
he had been so cruelly victimised. They issued a writ against him, and
he was seized and put in prison. He was first examined before a young
judge, of whose methods he could not speak too highly ; but afterwards
he appeared before an older one who treated him very differently and
seemed absolutely determined to prove his guilt.
" The truth triumphed at last, and after nineteen days of imprisonment
M. Magnin recovered his liberty ; but he had not only lost everything he
possessed but was also deprived of the consolation of returning to his
church, which, after having been laid waste, was closed and threatened
with destruction. He and his clergy were obliged to take refuge in the
church of St. Eustache, which then served two parishes.
" When in 1832 there was such a violent outbreak of cholera it was
thought right to ask the authorities to allow the church of Saint-Germain-
I'Auxerrois to be opened. They consented, and M. U curi, who had been
given the keys of his church, was already occupied in having the most
urgent repairs seen to, when the enemies of religion compassed the
revocation of the authorities' permission, and had the venerable pastor
ignominiously removed from the holy edifice. So the doors of Saint-
Germain-l'Auxerrois were once more closed, and the iron plates with which
they were fastened showed plainly that all hope of seeing them re-opened
must be given up. This state of things lasted until 1837.
"M. Magnin then resolved to resign. Hardly had he come to this
determination when the church was restored to the uses of religion
205
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
M. Maxime de la Rocheterie {Revue des Questions historiques,
1870), in the course of a very complete study of the subject we
are considering, proved that M. le Comte de Robiano's story
merited as much confidence as the Abb6 Magnin's official decla-
ration. The Comte Francois de Robiano, a scion of an ancient
and noble Italian family who had settled in Belgium at the time
of the Spanish rule, had during his many visits to Paris become in-
timate with the vicar of Saint-Germain-l' Auxerrois, who had been
brought to his notice as the last consoler of Louis XVI. 's widow.
He listened eagerly to the details of that marvellous incident.
He then determined to hear Mademoiselle Fouch^'s story also,
and undertook to take down the depositions of the two eye-
witnesses. The Comte de Robiano carried his zeal for historical
accuracy to the utmost point of scrupulousness. Every day at
the end of his interview with Mademoiselle Fouch6 or the Abbe
Magnin he wrote down what he had heard, and on the morrow
he read aloud to them the notes he had written, ip order to make
sure that they were quite accurate, and were in every respect
consistent with the recollections of the witnesses. (Information
given in 1870 to M. Maxime de la Rocheterie, hy M. le Comte L. de
Robiano, member of the Belgian Senate and son of Count Frangois.)
M. de Robiano's narrative, having been compiled in such con-
ditions as these, may be regarded as absolutely reliable ; and
this being the case, we have thought it right to publish it with
the Abb6 Magnin's declaration.
And now the reader must judge for himself. In spite of this
long preamble the following pages will doubtless seem to him
full of improbabilities, but with the exception of a few insigni-
ficant details we, for our part, beUeve them to be a truthful record.
The fact of Marie Antoinette's Communion in the Conciergerie
must be classed among those astonishing circumstances which
such as study it closely will find in the history of that
terrible and strange Revolution, wherein so much passion, and
hatred, and devotion were mingled.
without the smallest disturbance. M. de Qu^len blessed it on the
13th May, 1837, and on the following day, which was Whitsun Day, the
Abb6 Quentin, vicar-general, celebrated High Mass within its walls.
" M. Magnin, who was tall and had a good constitution, died at the age
of eighty-three, without suffering any of the infirmities of age. He
succumbed on the 12th January, 1843, leaving everything he possessed to the
Seminary of Foreign Missions, where he had lived for nearly six months
in 1791. His funeral service was performed at Saint-Germain-l' Auxerrois
on the 15th January, in the presence of a great number of his former
parishioners."
206
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF
MADEMOISELLE FOUCHE
RECORDED IN 1824
By M. le Comte de Robiano
. . . During that terrible time so justly known as the
Terror, Mademoiselle Fouche and the Abbe Magnin, who
then called himself M. Charles, had the courage — relying on
the goodness of Providence — to devote themselves to the
prisoners, for whom they wished to secure, not only the
kindly human comfort and help that seemed banished from
the face of the earth, but also the support of religion with
its invaluable examples of courage and resignation. They
were known to several of the gaolers — whose complaisance
was seldom gratuitous — and were regarded by them merely
as good creatures of no importance, who followed the dictates
of their kind hearts, and relieved all who were unfortunate,
without distinction. This being the state of things Made-
moiselle Fouche conceived the bold project of making her
way into the Queen's presence.
One day then, as Mademoiselle Fouche was coming away
from visiting some of the other prisoners, she asked the
gaoler Richard if she might not be allowed to see the Queen.
For a long time he refused to listen to her request.
" Impossible ! Absolutely impossible ! " he repeated.
Mademoiselle Fouche thought she detected something in the
tone of his voice that showed that his decision was not final,
that by some means this no might perhaps become yes ; and
presenting the gaoler with some pieces of gold with which
207
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
she had supplied herself for the purpose she renewed her
request. " Pay attention to what I say," said Richard.
" There are four gendarmes entrusted with the guarding of
the prisoner ; two of them are devils, but the other two are
good lads. They relieve each other at midnight. Come at
half-past twelve, and — we shall see." Mademoiselle Fouche,
overwhelmed with delight, went to the worthy M. Magnin.
" I am going to be allowed to see the Queen ! " she
said.
In the middle of the night, amid all the dangers that
arose from the restless, active, relentless vigilance of that
time, which sent men to their death on the merest suspicion,
these two Christian friends repaired to a place that was
absolutely the most dangerous in all Paris, a place upon
which savage eyes must surely have been always fixed, had it
not been that God sent them to sleep. Richard kept his
word. Mademoiselle Fouche was shown, alone, into the
Queen's cell. The Queen was not in bed. A wretched little
low bed, an old arm-chair stuffed with straw, a little table,
— such was her furniture in this damp hole, which was un-
papered, and was divided into two parts by a kind of curtain
and a screen as well. The second division was occupied by
the two gendarmes who made the Queen's martyrdom com-
plete, in this melancholy abode, by watching her perpetually.
Mademoiselle Fouche was struck by the majestic appear-
ance of her Sovereign, but the sight of the blanched hair,
and hollow cheeks, and faded colouring filled her with emotion.
The Queen looked silently at this person who came into her
prison at such an hour. Then Mademoiselle Fouche, whose
lips knew no guile, told her story. In simple words that
would have been impossible to an impostor she informed the
Queen of the touching purpose that brought a Frenchwoman
and a Christian into her presence. But the Queen had been
for so long surrounded by snares that she could not yield her
confidence so soon. Mademoiselle Fouche's heart was throb-
bing with emotion and happiness and embarrassment; but
she plucked up courage enough to beg the Queen to take
some food she had brought her, offering, alas ! to taste it first.
She received no answer. Good Mademoiselle Fouche under-
208
RECOLLECTIONS OF MLLE. FOUCHE
stood the royal prisoner's caution in the most wonderful way,^
and knew why she could win nothing from her but a look of
dignity — that last sublime defence of the daughter of
Emperors ! She ended this first visit by asking Her Majesty
if she would allow her to return. " As you will," said the
Queen. Ah, will I not ! thought Mademoiselle Fouche no
doubt, and, more than ever resolved to carry out her pious
and devoted scheme, she went away quite satisfied.
Meanwhile the Queen was thinking over this visit, for
Mademoiselle Fouch^'s conduct had touched her, and she
became convinced of the sincerity of this beautiful soul.
Her excellent heart rejected every thought of suspicion, and
when the second interview took place she no longer refused
her confidence.
This was Mademoiselle Fouch^'s scheme. Like a true
Christian, inspired by the purest and most devoted zeal, she
offered to bring a priest to see the Queen. The pious
princess accepted the offer eagerly. " But," she said, " do
you know one who is a non -juror ? " Being reassured on that
point, to which she attached the greatest importance, she
' The Le Monde newspaper publiahed on the 23rd July, 1864, the
following letter from the Rev. Father Fouche, which with regard to one
or two points supplements the story of the Comte de Robiano.
" I luiew M. Charles Magnin very intimately. During the Revolution
of '89 he took refuge with the Demoiselles Fouohfo, my father's sisters ;
and from that time forward he never left them. Indeed, I had been
taught, when staying with my aunts, to call him ' Uncle. ' This was a
stratagem intended to avert suspicion. I have several times heard
Mile. Fouoh6, the elder of the two sisters, relate how she had managed
to get into the Conciergerie. She was received by the Queen with an icy
coldness that is easily accounted for. The things she had brought with
her (stockings, linen, food) to give to the Queen, had no more favourable
effect. She even went so far as to eat a piece of bread-and-jam in order to
do away with any idea of her intentions being sinister. As all her efforts
failed she felt she must adopt some more persuasive means. ' Madame,'
she said to the Queen, 'the state of public opinion is such that it is
impossible for you any longer to entertain the least hope. Religion alone
can give you its final consolation, and it is in order to procure tms for you
that I have dared to come to you. If you accept my suggestion I am
confident of being able to put you in touch with a non-juring catholic
priest. If your Majesty will deign to answer me I will neglect nothing in
my efforts to serve you. "
The effect of these words was immediate. The Queen threw herself
into my aimt's arms, embraced her tenderly, and expressing her gratitude
declared that her one desire was to realise these promises.
S. FouoHfi, S. J.
209 r
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
agreed that on the occasion of the third visit M. Magnin
should be brought in ; and Mademoiselle Fouche, who
thought of everything, begged her Majesty, if the ecclesiastic
did not suit her, merely to make a sign, upon which he would
go away.
If Mademoiselle Fouche had found it difficult to approach
the Queen the difficulties in the case of M. Magnin were far
greater. The most persistent entreaties and arguments,
combined with Richard's long acquaintance with these two,
who had always been careful not to compromise him, again
overcame his objections. M. Magnin, who during the other
visits had waited outside, was allowed to follow Mademoiselle
Fouche. He inspired the Queen with so much confidence
that she conversed with him for an hour and a half. Tears
of joy and gratitude lay upon her cheeks, which for so long
had only glistened with tears of utmost bitterness. She
embraced Mademoiselle Fouche rapturously, and begged that
M. Magnin might accompany her whenever she was able to
enter the prison herself : which he did. Richard, somewhat
reassured by the success of the experiment, promised them
that they should often take advantage of the days when the
well-disposed gendarmes were on guard.
Her Majesty confessed herself several times ; and about
fifteen days after the admission of M. Magnin, who was in
the habit of carrying consecrated wafers to the prisoners in a
box hung round his neck, she had the happiness of receiving
the Holy Communion in the Conciergerie, with a sense of
comfort and support that one may imagine but that cannot
possibly be put into words.
In the meantime Mademoiselle Fouche had obtained the
Queen's permission to substitute some fine chemises and
various other little things for the extremely coarse linen that
had been unblushingly provided for her. Being obliged to
take several persons into her confidence with regard to her
good fortune in visiting the Queen and being of some use to
her, she had spoken of it to Madame de Quelen among
others, the mother of Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris.
This virtuous lady and devoted royalist, hearing that the
Queen was then wearing a shabby black gown, torn, and
210
RECOLLECTIONS OF MLLE. FOUCHE
coarsely mended with white cotton, eagerly offered her best
dresses to Mademoiselle Fouche. But a sudden thought put
an end to their pleasure. Every day the commissioners came
several times to inspect the prison, and their suspicions would
certainly be roused by the sight of a new dress. It was
therefore necessary for the ladies to confine their attention to
under-garments. The fear lest even a more suitable pair of
shoes should betray the important secret prevented them
from providing anything of that kind.
The dampness and coldness of the prison suggested to
Mademoiselle Fouche the idea of procuring some warmer
stockings for the Queen. The sisters of La Charite Saint-
Roch, of whom three are still alive, eagerly supplied these.
Alas ! fragments of these stockings — unmistakable on
account of the thick lining formed by long ends of filoselle
silk — were found on the body of the unfortunate Marie
Antoinette.
Mademoiselle Fouche, having heard that the Queen liked
rye-bread, made an arrangement with a baker in the neigh-
bourhood of the Conciergerie, and took care that every
second day Her Majesty should be supplied with this little
sign of consideration and attention.
The royal prisoner was much touched by these marks of
devotion, and showed her gratitude for them. She showed,
too, the most entire confidence, and. expressed it in moving
terms. She had neither pen, ink, nor paper ; but an admir-
able sense of delicacy and generosity always forbade her to
accept Mademoiselle Fouche's repeated offers to provide her
with writing materials. " If you were surprised with a single
word of mine in your possession," she said, "your death
would be a certainty."
One night the Queen produced a very simple little ebony
box that had been left in her possession; how, I do not
know, for an oversight of this kind was very inconsistent
with the minute searches and spoliation to which the royal
family had been subjected. The httle box contained a
porcelain cup mounted in silver. The Queen confided it to
Mademoiselle Fouche's care, saying : " If you possibly can,
give this last souvenir to Madame Royale ; but if these
811 V S
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
unhappy times should prevent you from putting my daughter
in possession of it, I give the cup to you. Keep it in memory
of me." It was with the greatest respect that Mademoiselle
Fouche received this farewell gift, the only possession of the
Queen of France ! Afterwards, she several times consulted
Madame la Princesse de Chimay, Madame la Princesse de
Tarente, and Madame la Comtesse de Golowkin as to the
best means of conveying her precious charge to her Royal
Highness Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme. At last, in
1804, the Duchesse de Tarente, who was returning to Russia,
undertook the care of it, and the Duchesse d'Angouleme,
having received it at Mittau, was good enough to acknow-
ledge the receipt of it in an autograph letter which
Mademoiselle Fouche has carefully preserved.
About this time a certain Michonis, a commissioner, took
into the prison a stranger who tried to put into the Queen's
hands a carnation containing a little piece of paper. The
paper fell to the ground, and the commissioners took posses-
sion of it instantly, and afterwards this fruitless attempt was
punished with vindictive cruelty. Mademoiselle Fouche went
to the Conciergerie that day and found everything changed.
Without daring to ask for an explanation she went to the
prison of La Force, the gaoler of which was a certain M.
Bault, an honest man whose heart was not insensible to pity.
A sister of the Saint-Louis Hospital, who is still living,
secured an interview with Madame Bault for Mademoiselle
Fouche, who then heard of the Michonis affair, of Richard's
discharge, and of his being replaced at the Conciergerie by
M. Bault.
This incident would have alarmed anyone else, but on
account of the last circumstance it only quickened Mademoiselle
Fouche's ardour. She knew M. Bault, and respected him.
She sought him out, told him in confidence what Richard
had allowed her to do, and begged him to go and ask the
Queen to confirm her statements. This message having had
the result that Mademoiselle Fouche expected, her next care
was to speak to M. Bault of the dampness in the cell, which
was so great that on the occasion of her first visit she had
felt her cuffs and coif quite wet. The gaoler hunted out a
212
RECOLLECTIONS OF MLLE. FOUCHE
piece of old carpet in the attics of La Force, and nailed it
against the wall in her Majesty's room. Any less shabby or
less common piece of stuff would not have been tolerated.
As it was the commissioners noticed it, and spoke severely
about it to M. Bault, who said to them : " Citizens, I am
answerable with my head for the prisoner. It would be
possible, by speaking with a loud voice, to make her hear
anything that was said, and to receive answers from her.
This thick carpet will prevent that." Bault's precaution was
approved of, and the carpet remained where it was.
Taking advantage of Bault's good-will, M. Magnin and
Mademoiselle Fouche determined to give the Queen the
unexpected happiness of taking part in the celebration of
Holy Mass in her melancholy cell. When Mademoiselle
Fouche made this further suggestion to M. Bault he was
much taken aback by the request. She entreated, she
insisted, and she had her way. " Dp not be anxious, my dear
M. Bault," she said to him ; " you need only be at the
trouble of procuring two little candlesticks for me : we will
see to all the rest." And they hastily set to work to obtain
a chasuble of simple taffetas, some linen to cover the table
that was to serve as an altar, a silver chalice that took to
pieces, the consecrated stone, a little missal, the flagons, and
two tapers. Such were the preparations, and such the light
burdens shared by the two friends.
The Queen had been apprised of their coming, and was
joyfully awaiting the boon that she desired more than any-
thing in the world. After the celebration of the Mass she
wished, in her humility, that her warders and her guardian
angel might be treated as her equals in receiving the Holy
Eucharist, but the Abbe Magnin desired the Queen of France
to receive it first. She obeyed; and then the consecrated
wafer was presented to Mademoiselle Fouche and the two
soldiers. The Queen, melting into tears at the feet of her
God, confided the fate of her children to His care, and
besought Him for strength to bear her present misery, and
for resignation in the terrible future that awaited her on
earth.
About this time, near the end, M. Magnin fell seriously
218
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
ill and was confined to his bed. Her Majesty was much
distressed. Mademoiselle Fouche suggested that she should
see another priest, and twice succeeded in taking into the
Conciergerie M. Cholet,^ a Vendeen priest, who gave the
Queen the last aids of religion two days before she was tried
by the Revolutionary Tribunal.
And yet the storm that never ceased to threaten that
royal head did not then seem to be on the point of breaking.
Mademoiselle Fouche thought she might safely go away to
Orleans, whither she was summoned by urgent business that
admitted of no delay. And then, suddenly, during her short
absence, the Queen was dragged before the Tribunal. It
was only in the course of her own trial that she learnt of
the horrible terror that was reigning in France, and of the
slaughter by which, day by day, all the royalism and
Christianity in the country was being stamped oub. Seeing
that her friends of the prison did not return, she must have
thought they had perished, and it is no doubt this sad
belief of hers that explains these words in her letter : Not
knowing whether there are any priests of this religion still
alive.
Mademoiselle Fouche returned to Paris hoping to see the
Queen again at once. On reaching Etampes she was informed
by some people who had just left Paris that on that very
morning Marie Antoinette had died upon the scaffold.
' In L'Histoire de Marie Antoinette, by M. de Vyr6, the following story
is told. " A disguised priest went into the Queen's cell. He was the
vicar of Saint-M — , who in 1791, when the royal family was imprisoned in
the Tuileries after Varennes, had been consulted with regard to a new
project for escape.
" The vicar of Saint-M—, then, went into the cell trembling like a child,
and walked up and down in the space reserved for municipal officers,
while the gendarmes were playing cards. The Queen did not recognise
him ; but he went up to her and in one word informed her of the object of
his visit. He then gave her absolution, and put into her hands a round
flat silver box containing a wafer. This pyx is now in the possession of
Madame Alexandre Legentil, nie Marcotte.
" The vicar of Saint-M — spoke of this visit to two persons only, his friend
Royer Collard and his own niece, through whom M. de Vyr6 heard of it."
Might not this curi of Saint-M — (?) be the Abb6 Cholet ?
214
THE DECLARATION OF THE
ABBE MAGNIN
(1825)
Statement drawn up by M. Magnin, Cure of the Parish
OF Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, concerning Queen Marie
Antoinette's Communion in the Conciergerie.^
Having been chosen by the Lord, in spite of my unworthi-
ness, to give the consolations of religion to the unfortunate
Marie Antoinette of Austria, Queen of France, while confined
^ This Declaration, which the Abb6 Magnin wrote and signed with his
own hand, was presented in 1825 to Charles X., Madame la Dauphine,
Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris, and Monseigneur d'Hermopolis, and
was pnolished on the 23rd July, 1864, in the journal called Le Monde.
The original manuscript is in the possession of Mile. Fouch^'s nephew. A
pamphlet that is now very rare. La Communion de la reine Marie Antoin-
ette a la Conciergerie, by N. M. Troche, supplies the following details.
The Duohesse d'AngoulSme had known of the pious deed in the Conciergerie
as early as the year 1804, during her exile at Mittau in Courland, whence
she sent grateful messages to Mile. FouchA. Later on, after the restora-
tion of the august royal family, she sought an opportunity of showing her
gratitude to M. Magnin. This opportunity soon presented itself. Various
reasons, known to the ecclesiastical authorities, necessitated the removal
of the venerable M. Valayer, at that time curi of Saint-Germain-d'Auxer-
rois. He was transferred to Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs, and M. Magnin
succeeded him on the 5th Nov., 1816, thus becoming the vicar of the parish
of the Tuileries.
From 1816 to 1831 M. Magnin's ministry was entirely that of a father
revered by his spiritual children. The revolution of July passed over his
head without touching him. But on the 13th Feb., 1831, on the ostensible
pretext of the service he performed for the repose of Monseigneur le due
de Berry's soul, his church was horribly profaned and pillaged, after
which it remained closed until the 13th May, 1837. During these six
years his position, with regard to his ecclesiastical status, was as deplor-
able and as sad as that of Monseigneur de Qu61en ; but he bore it with
courage and energy, and for some time resisted all the efforts of the civil
authorities to make him resign. At last, however, realising that it was
215
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
in the prison of the Conciergerie, I thought it my duty to
preserve a strict silence with regard to an event that I have
always attributed to the intervention of God. His merciful
designs upon a soul that was dear to Him broke down all the
difficulties and innumerable obstacles that I had to overcome.
It was my duty to give Him all the glory and remain in the
shade myself.
Uncontrollable circumstances, and the advice of several
people in the first ranks of society, whose intelligence equals
the integrity of their hearts, now oblige me to leave the
shade, to break silence and publish the truth.
I am therefore going to tell this interesting story, with
the simplicity that it demands. I shall recount to the whole
French nation how in those days of cruel memory, when our
august sovereign, who had been dragged from one of the
grandest thrones of the world, was sighing in a prison cell,
the Lord sent one of His ministers to her, to fill her soul with
only at this price that his church would be re-opened in accordance with
his parishioners' wishes, he begged Monseigneur the Archbishop to allow
him to resign, and his resignation was sent to King Louie-Philippe.
I must here draw attention to the fact that, though he was exposed to
many calumnies during this six years' ordeal, M. Magnin's honesty with
regard to his pious relations with the Queen in the Conciergerie was not
called in question by any newspaper or publication whatever. It was
well known, moreover, that the facts of the case were familiar to the
Bourbon family. This is proved beyond a doubt by the following circum-
stance. In the Salon of 1819 the painter Menjaud exhibited a picture
representing Her Majesty Queen Marie Antoinette receiving the Communion
from the hands of the Abb6 Magnia, whose features are recognisable.
Mile. Fouch6 and the two gendarmes are also present. This interesting
composition aroused much admiration and emotion among the general
public, while to the royal family it was a source of consolation. King
Louis XVIII. examined it with the liveliest interest, and a few days after
his visit to the Salon His Majesty was good enough to address a few
complimentary words to the vicar of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois.
Many people who had the pleasure of seeing this touching picture, and
some who knew it only through the accounts in the newspapers, expressed
a wish that this memorial might be reproduced as an engraving, since the
incident it represented was not only of a most consoling nature, but also
did honour to religion. With a view to fulfilling this wish, MM. Bazin
and Civetou, two artists well known for their good work and their
excellent principles, engraved with the greatest care a lithograph of
M. Menjaud's picture, in order that the memory of the remarkable event
it represented might be preserved. Madame la duchesse d'AngoulSme
having consented to accept the dedication of the lithograph, they had the
honour of presenting it to her, and Her Royal Highness was kind enough
to say that she was pleased at their reproducing this interesting subject,
and that their work seemed to her to be skilfully done.
216
THE AEEfi MAGNIN', THE LAST COKFESSOR OF THE QUKEN.
From an unpublished picture preserved in the sacristy of the Church of
Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois.
DECLARATION OF THE ABBt MAGNIN
all the consolation that religion offers to the unhappy. I
shall dissipate the doubts and suspicions that have arisen,
and I shall leave no uncertainty in the minds of the public as
to the truth of this memorable circumstance, which history
will not fail to transmit from age to age to our most remote
descendants, with all that concerns the misfortunes of the
royal family. I shall give details that will be some con-
solation to the latter, and especially to the Princess whose
virtues are so admirable and whose heroic courage has sup-
ported her through such terrible trials.
I shall give her the certain knowledge that her royal
mother, the victim of man's injustice and cruelty, was com-
forted, strengthened, and prepared for the final ordeal by those
pious and moving ceremonies that made her forget the
ingratitude of her subjects. I shall speak for the honour of
religion and its ministers, and shall defend them from the
impious violence of men without principle or faith, consistent
foes of the throne and the altar, who have made it their
business to ridicule, deny, and reject everything that could
tend to the glory of God. But before beginning this story I
must introduce Mademoiselle Fouche, my excellent partner in
this work of Divine Providence.
Mademoiselle Fouche, a member of a respectable family
from Orleans, and herself deserving of much esteem on
account of her piety, had, at the beginning of the schism
that was so disastrous to the Church of France, become
intimate with various people who were distinguished alike by
their birth and their virtues. Having dedicated herself to
works of charity she visited the victims of the Revolution in
prison, found asylums for persecuted royalists, and facilitated
the flight of those who were trying to escape the fury of their
enemies.
Some very distinguished people owed their peace and safety
to the services she had rendered them, and were eager in their
expressions of gratitude. Being suspected of receiving priests
at her house, as well as emigres who had returned to France,
she was arrested, but the temporary loss of her freedom did
not in the least diminish her zeal. When visiting the prisoners
in the Conciergerie she made the acquaintance of the Sieur
217
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Richard, who was the gaoler there. She had the courage —
to this I bear witness — to persuade the gaoler to admit her
to the Queen's cell. Her reiterated entreaties, combined with
tact and skill, had all the success that she could wish. To her
great happiness she was taken to the Queen's room, and was
able to offer her a few comforts to alleviate her painful and
distressing privations. Inspired by Heaven, and assured of
the illustrious prisoner's consent, she urgently begged that
she might be allowed to take me with her into Her Majesty's
cell, and secured permission to do so.
I declare, then, that with the assistance of the Most High,
I had the happiness of receiving the confession of the Queen
of France on two occasions, and of giving her the Holy
Commimion, while Richard was still the gaoler of the
Conciergerie.
I declare further that the Sieur Bault, who succeeded
Richard at the Conciergerie, and knew Mademoiselle Fouche
while he was gaoler of La Force, also yielded to her entreaties ;
she was again admitted to the cell. Once more the presence
of this devoted creature brought a little brightness into the
Queen's sad surroundings ; and I too, owing to Mademoiselle
Fouch^'s efforts and prayers, won from the new warder the
happiness of visiting Her Majesty.
Remembering what had taken place when Louis XVI. was
in the same circumstances in the Temple, and knowing the
Queen's feelings on the subject, I suggested to her that I
should celebrate Holy Mass in the dark hole in which she was
imprisoned, and should give her the Holy Communion. I
assured Her Majesty that we could easily bring with us all
the things necessary for these solemn ceremonies. For during
these dreadful times we had in our possession three little
chalices that took to pieces, some smaU 18mo missals, and
some portable altar-stones, rather longer than the foot of a
little chalice. All these things fitted into a work-bag, and
we could easily hide them in our pockets.
The Queen gratefully accepted, and thanked us for the
suggestion. Among the gendarmes who were employed to
guard this particular cell we had noticed two whose respect
for their sovereign and open manifestation of their religious
218
DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN
feelings had inspired us with complete confidence. As they
were well known to the gaoler, I did not hesitate to inform
them of the good fortune that the Queen was about to enjoy,
and these men, who were good Christians as well as loyal
French subjects, expressed their desire to have a share in this
glorious privilege.
The day of the sacred ceremony having been agreed upon,
the gaoler came to meet us during the night at a particular
spot, and took us into the prison. I heard the Queen's con-
fession. Mademoiselle Fouche was prepared to receive her
Savioiu-, and the two gendarmes assured me that they also
were ready, and earnestly desired to communicate in these
fortunate and unexpected circumstances.
I celebrated Holy Mass, and gave the Communion to the
Queen, who, as she fortified herself with the eucharistic bread,
received from God the courage to bear uncomplainingly all
the torture that awaited her. Mademoiselle Fouche and the
two gendarmes were at the same time admitted to the divine
banquet.
Having undertaken to tell my story in few words, I cannot
possibly dwell upon the emotion to which so touching a scene
must give rise. It took place early in October, 1793, and as
I fell iU shortly afterwards this was the last time I had the
honour of seeing Her Majesty. Mademoiselle Fouche was
more fortunate ; and she introduced in my place M. Cholet, a
priest from La Vendee. This ecclesiastic gave the Communion
to the Queen during the night of the 12th of the same month,
and immediately afterwards left France to take refuge in
England. There, according to information obtained by
Madame la princesse de Chimay, he has since died.
Such is the authentic and solemn declaration that I hereby
make. Mademoiselle Fouche, whom Providence has mercifully
preserved, has supported my testimony with her own irre-
futable evidence. Calumny has made it a matter of duty to
give publicity to this incident, a duty that I felt obliged to
fulfil. The two gaolers are dead; the brave gendarmes,
victims of their own imprudence, died under the executioner's
knife ; and Mademoiselle Fouche and myself are the only two
remaining eye-witnesses. I will add one or two facts that will
219
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
throw light on this incident — which some have dared to treat
as a fable — and will confirm my assertion that Queen Marie
Antoinette did actually receive the Communion in the
Conciergerie.
Although our actions demanded the greatest secrecy,
various reasons determined us to confide in several people
upon whose discretion we could absolutely rely. More than
thirty years have passed since then, but there is still a more
than sufficient number of people alive to bear witness to the
truth of what I have just declared.
There is, for instance, Sister Julie, the Superior of the
Sisters of Charity of Saint-Roch ; and Sister Jeanne, of the
same community. Charitable ladies took to these nuns the
articles they had collected to alleviate the privations of
the royal captive. It was from them that Mademoiselle
Fouche i-eceived a pair of stockings of grey filoselle, thickly
lined, and a pair of elastic garters. It was, under Providence,
by means of one of these stockings, and of the preservation
of the garters, that the precious remains of Marie Antoinette
were identified in the cemetery of the Madeleine !
Other witnesses to whom I can appeal are Mademoiselle
Trouve, Rue de Sevres, opposite to the Abbaye-aux-Bois, who
was well known to the Princesse de Chimay ; and M. Blandin,
vicar-general at Orleans and cure of Saint-Paterne, who was
in hiding in this town at that time. In a letter that he wrote
to me in the course of last December, he reminded me that
he had expressed a desire to share both our happiness and our
risks ; and since then he has repeated this to my senior curate.
Certain other devout persons, having known of the incident
that took place in the Conciergerie, gave very humble thanks
to God on that account.
The Princesse de Chimay, hearing on her return to France
of the wonderful circumstance, told the Princesse de Tarente
of it in 1803. These two ladies had several interviews with
us, and Madame de Tarente, when passing through Mittau on
her way to Russia in the following year, informed her Royal
Highness the Duchesse d'Angouleme of all the details of the
Queen's Communion — details that she had heard from us and
from other people who knew them already.
220
DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN
His Majesty Louis XVIII. and Monseigneur the Due
d'Angouleme were afterwards informed of this consohng
circumstance, and the royal family joyfully blessed the
invisible hand that had made it possible, and had carried it
to a successful issue.
When Providence gave back to us the descendants of so
many kings, for whom we had so greatly longed, they had
already known of our zeal and devotion for more than ten
years ; but we, satisfied with having done right, and desiring
to remain unknown, did not put ourselves forward.
Madame la Princesse de Chimay thwarted our intentions.
She begged us to go and see her, and then questioned us with
regard to the scene in the Conciergerie, making us repeat the
details that she had known for a long time. We gave in to
her wishes, but we earnestly entreated her not to mention our
names in the story she proposed to teU Madame la Duchesse
d'Angouleme, and not to make the facts public.
Surprised at our resistance, she begged M. I'AbbeDesjardins,
cure of Foreign Missions, and now first vicar-general of the
Archbishopric of Paris, to urge me to allow my name to be
given, as a matter of conscience, with a view to making the
story more authentic. M. Desjardins recently related the
circumstances in the presence of Monseigneur the Archbishop
of Paris and a large number of ecclesiastics, and urged me to
tell the story myself. I was obliged to obey.
On the 16th October, 1814, I had the honour of being
received by Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme in her private
sitting-room, and by her request I gave an accurate account
of all we did, and of the help that Mademoiselle Fouche and
I were fortunate enough to give to her august mother, and
especially of the way in which God had made it possible for
us to give her the Holy Communion. The Princess listened
to these sad details in reverent silence, with an expression of
the liveliest emotion.
In 1817 Madame Bault, the widow of the man who was
gaoler at the prison of La Force, and was afterwards at the
Conciergerie while Richard and his wife were in prison, offered
me a copy of some historical notes on the Queen's last days,
and wrote me a letter, from which the following is an extract :
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
" MONSIEUR,-
IV,
The account I have had drawn up, and have the
honour of sending you, of the last hours of the
Queen, cannot be dedicated to anyone more suitable
than yourself, who had the courage, in spite of end-
less dangers, to make your way into that august
Princess's prison, in order to give her the conso-
lations of religion.
Signed: Widow Bault."
The original of this letter, the signature of which was
identified by Bault Jils, gaoler at Sainte-Pelagie, has been
deposited with M. Champion, notary, 19 Rue de la Monnaie,
Paris.
If this account were to be read by none but the well-
disposed, who would be likely to be convinced by the evidence
I have put forward, I would stop here ; but since there are
others, who are under the influence of opinions and teaching
inimical to religion, and are eager to misinterpret and distort
every fact that tends to the glory of God, I shall prolong my
story.
The fact that the Queen, in her letter to Madame
Elizabeth, said nothing of her Communion, has been seized
upon by these people as a proof that I wished to impose upon
the public. I do not feel called upon to explain the Queen's
motives : others have done so already, and have said all there
was to say.
As a matter of fact, the consideration of the dates alone is
enough to explain and dissipate the only possible objection
founded on Her Majesty's letter to Madame Elizabeth. It
was during the first days of October, 1793, that M. Magnin
celebrated Holy Mass in the Conciergerie, and during the
night of the 13th of the same month that M. Cholet again
gave the Holy Communion to the Queen : and it was on the
16th, a few hours before entering the fatal cart, that the
Queen wrote her immortal letter to Madame Elizabeth.
Being, therefore, at peace with God, she was able to say and
to write, without the least perversion of the truth, that she
was in no need of spiritual consolation, seeing that she had
222
DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN
already received it. The need for caution, and her wish to
shield both the priests who had helped her and those who had
achieved bringing them to her, would be enough to suggest
this or any similar expression. Be this as it may, the facts
speak for themselves; and the following is a still more
significant one — a word spoken by the Queen herself, which
leaves no doubt as to her secret. At half-past six in the
morning, when she had just confided her letter to the gaoler,
begging him to see that it reached its destination, M. Girard,
a priest who had taken the oath and had formerly been curi
of Saint-Landry, but was now vicar-general of Gobel and
constitutional Bishop of Paris, came to the Queen and offered
her the help of his ministrations. She declined it. " But,
Madame," he said, " what will people say when they know
you refxosed the consolations of religion at this supreme
moment ? " The Queen replied : " You may tell those who
speak of it to you that the mercy of God provided for me ! "
M. Girard himself, who forsook the error of his ways and
returned to the bosom of the Church, did not hesitate to repeat
Her Majesty's answer to his representations. He told it to
several people, and notably to M. de Lagny, cure of the parish
of Bonne-Nouvelle, who made a point of relating the anecdote
to me on more than one occasion, and more particularly
during the early days of this month (January). M. Bertrand
de MoUeville also records the circumstance in his History of
the Revolution of 1789. Assuredly, if a commission were
appointed to examine into the numerous proofs that establish
the fact of the Queen's Communion in the Conciergerie — and
some of these proofs we have passed over in silence — it would
be obliged to proclaim the truth of the story in the face of
all the world. Naturally, then, I was surprised to see the
widespread publication of a brochure whose sole motive was
to discredit the truth of this incident, and to deprive the
royal family, after all they have endured, of their most
cherished source of comfort.
But my surprise was still greater when I learnt that this
composition. La fausse communion de la Seme, was the out-
come of M. I'Abbe Lafont d'Aussonne's remarkable imagina-
tion. I should have been glad, for the honour of the priest-
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
hood, to hide the fact, but it is too well known. He has put
his name to his work, and is determined not to let anyone else
have the credit of it. He wrote to me on the subject himself.
Nor is this all. The writing was attached, five times in
succession, to the door of my church, in order that my whole
parish might know about it ! It seems to me that all I have
said to establish the fact of the Queen's Communion in the
Coneiergerie will suffice to refute the book that tries to
discredit it !
Far be it from me to apply to its author the coarse terms
of abuse that he so liberally bestows upon me ; but since,
thanks to the Almighty, he has been snared in his own net, I
need not hesitate to reveal his shameful methods, and thus,
by means of his own words, to carry conviction into the most
prejudiced minds.
M. Lafont d'Aussonne, in his anxiety lest he should fail to
win the confidence of the public, tried to beguile the widowed
Madame Bault, who had settled at Charenton. He paid her
a visit, and employed all the resources of his fertile imagina-
tion in his efforts to persuade her to draw up a statement,
denying what God had accomplished in the Coneiergerie.
Madame Bault, insulted by such a suggestion, rejected his
request firmly and indignantly ! But this rebuff did not
disconcert him at all, and thinking he might be more fortunate
with her son, he visited him too, to prepare his mind for the
suggestion that he, Lafont d'Aussonne, was about to make.
On the following day he wrote this letter to M. Bault :
Letter from M. Lafont d'Aussonne to M. Bault,
Gaoler of the Prison of Sainte-Pelagie.
My dear Monsieur Bault,
I have already told you of the service your mother rendered
me in April, 1794!, when she said to the famous Heron, who
was taking me to La Force to undergo solitary confinement :
" Citizen Heron, take that poor young man somewhere else ;
our cells are full of scurvy and the plague, and he will be
dead in three days if he comes here." Your mother was able
to recall the incident when, as I told you, my friendship and
gratitude led me to visit her a few days ago at her house in
DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN
the country. I take a heartfelt interest in all that concerns
her good name and that of her late husband, your father ;
and in the new edition of my Histoire des malhevrs et de la
mort de la Reme I will clear them both of the charge of
venality which the Sieur Magnin has brought against them in
a widely-published writing.
In the meantime, in case Madame Bault should happen to
die suddenly, which is a thing that may occur to any of us, I
urgently beg you to ask her in my name for a formal and
properly signed statement, expressed in the following terms :
" I, so-and-so (her maiden name), widow of M. Bault, who
was, during his lifetime, gaoler in the prison of La Force, and
was appointed to the same post in the Conciergerie during
the imprisonment of our august Queen Marie Antoinette of
Austria, declare and attest before God, and call my soul and
conscience to witness, that my late husband and my eldest
daughter, who were alone entitled to approach and wait upon
Her Majesty in prison, and were surrounded by warders and
gendarmes, never admitted, and would indeed have found it
physically impossible to admit, any person whatever into the
cell of the royal prisoner. I attest and declare before God,
my sovereign judge, that neither my husband nor my daughter
ever received any money, or linen, or other article intended
for the Queen, and that, even if they had consented to receive
anything, the articles in question could never have reached
their destination, since nothing was given to Her Majesty
except through the office of the registrar of the Tribunal,
which office was inspected and managed by Fouquier-Tinville.
And, consequently, I declare a certain octodecimo publication
to be false and calumnious ; which publication Lafont d'Aus-
sonne, the author of a work on the death of the Queen of
France, showed to me, saying that he had it from M. I'abbe
Magnin, who signed it. It is said in this publication that
Mctdemoiaelle FcmcM, by means of her money, won over the
Queen's warders, who admitted her and M. Magnim several
times to the cell of the captive Queen. My late husband was a
good man : he would never have accepted a bribe in the
exercise of his duties : he never received one from the Sieur
Magnin or Mademoiselle Fouche or from anyone in the world ;
225 «
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
he loved and respected the Queen, and did for her the Uttle
that it was possible for him to do without looking for any
reward but the satisfaction of his feelings and the fulfilment
of his duty.
Finally, I declare that neither my husband, nor my
daughter, nor I, knew Mademoiselle Fouche and M. Magnin
at the time in question : I only made their acquaintance after
the return of the royal family, and my object in doing so was
merely to throw light upon their alleged admission to the
Conciergerie.
In witness whereof, at Charenton, on the , 1822.
Widow Bault."
This, Monsieur, is what it would be advisable for your
mother to declare formally. In any case I shall assert in my
book that her conversation with me was to that effect.
With kindest regards.
Signed: Lafont D'Aussonne.
I beg to call the reader's special attention to the phrase :
" In any case I shall assert in my book that her conversation
with me was to that effect " ; a luminous phrase when thought-
fully considered, and a phrase for which M. I'abbe Lafont
would have a good deal of use. It surely cannot have
astonished those who had the advantage of knowing him.
M. Bault fils was much surprised at being charged with
such a mission, and merely forwarded this curious letter to
his mother, who for her part felt nothing but scorn for an
attempt that was so insulting to all her finer feelings. She
lost no time in sending the letter in question to me, at the
same time expressing her indignation.
M. Lafont, though he received no answer to this wonderful
letter of July, 1822, which had fallen into my own hands, did
not fail to fulfil his threats. " In any case I shall assert that
her conversation with me was to that effect ! " He had been
indignantly repulsed by the Widow Bault. but he thought
proper to put into her mouth an endorsement of his senti-
ments and slanders and upon this foundation he built up
his worthless romance, which was compiled of statements
imputed to people who had never signed them nor seen them,
226
DECLARATION OF THE ABB^ MAGNIN
and composed of scenes that had never taken place except in
his imagination !
Madame Bault, shortly after sending me this letter from
Lafont d'Aussonne, wrote to me on the 30th December, 1822,
for New Year's Day. This is her letter :
" Honoured and Reverend Sir,
I beg you to accept my very sincere wishes and prayers for
your peace of mind and your most entire happiness. If my
prayers are granted, the treachery and malice of jealous
persons will be unable to injure you or prevail against you ;
the wicked will always be confounded. I implore you to
continue to give me your benevolent protection, and assure
you that the sentiments wiU never change with which I beg
you to believe me, respected and reverend Sir, your very
humble servant.
Please ask Mademoiselle Fouche also to accept my wishes
for her happiness.
Signed: Widow Bault.
Charenton, 30th Dec. 1822."
I will make no observations on these two letters that
present so great a contrast, the first of which failed to produce
the effect expected of it by its disingenuous author. I submit
them, with the story that precedes them, to the consideration
of the impartial reader. Let him judge.
I have told, in simple words, as I promised, the story of a
most consoling incident : the Communion of our Queen in
the Conciergerie. I have not done so as briefly as I had
hoped, on account of the numerous details and documents
with which my pen had to deal. I have even omitted some
details recorded in certain notes that reached me lately, which
are very conclusive. I have fulfilled an obligation that was
laid upon me, and have witnessed to the truth ; and whatever
the result may be I shall always have the support of my
conscience, and that is enough for me.
Executed in Paris, Jan. 26th, 1826.
Signed: Magnin,
Cure of Saint-Germain-PAuxerrois.
227 Q 2
THE TRIAL
NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE^
COUNSEL FOE THB QtJBEN
(14th-16th October, 1793)
The trial began at eight o'clock in the morning. It
continued without a pause until four in the afternoon ; was
interrupted till five ; and then went on until four o'clock on
the following morning ; so that except for one brief interval
of relaxation it lasted for about twenty consecutive hours,
during which a crowd of witnesses were examined in
succession.
Imagine, if you can, the force of will required by the
Queen to bear the fatigues of a sitting as long and as horrible
as this ; to endure the gaze of a whole crowd ; to pit herself
against the monsters who thirsted for her blood ; to
defend herself against the snares they laid for her ; to over-
throw all their objections; to keep meanwhile within the
bounds of decorum and moderation, and never to be
unworthy of herself.
Only those who witnessed every detail of this too-notorious
' Chauveau-Lagarde was in the country on the 14th Oct., 1793, when u,
messenger came to inform him that he and Troncon-Ducoudray had been
chosen to defend the Queen, and that the trial was to begin on the
following day at eight o'clock. He returned to Paris at once, and
hastened to the Conciergerie. "I entered the Queen's presence," he
says, " with feelings of the most devout respect, so that my knees were
shaking under me, . . . and such was my embarrassment that it could not
possibly have been equalled had I had the honour of being presented to
the Queen amid the surroundings of her Court."
NOTES BY CHAtJVEAU-LAGARDE
trial can have any true idea of the nobility of character
shown by the Queen on the occasion.
. . . When the Court rose the first time we retired to the
prison, to confer together for a moment on the progress of
the trial up to that time. We were still surrounded by
gendarmes, who never left us.
The Queen had seen ManuePs name on the list of
witnesses who were to be heard~that evening. Knowing that
he had been procureur of the Commune during one of the
most horrible periods of the Revolution she thought it
a name of evil omen, and feared he would be unlikely to keep
to the truth in his deposition. I must, however, do
Manuel's memory the justice of saying that on this occasion
he had the honesty to say nothing that could by any means
be interpreted to the Queen's disadvantage.
Meantime the Queen asked me what I thought of the
evidence we had just heard. She went over the different
points of it with perfect accuracy, and complained bitterly of
the lies of which it was chiefly composed. I answered
her perfectly truthfully that not only was there no proof —
which was a matter of course — of all the ridiculous slanders
of the witnesses, but there was not the slightest evidence to
support them ; and that they as a matter of fact defeated
their own object by their very scurrility, and by the baseness
and degradation of those who invented them.
" In that case," said the Queen, " I fear no one but
Manuel." At that moment de Busne, the constabulary-
officer, was relieved, and it afterwards transpired that these
words of the Queen had been overheard by the gendarmes,
who repeated them in the Tribunal. . . .
In the course of the sitting that followed, the Queen gave
a remarkable . . . proof of her presence of mind and
strength of character.
It was at the most painful moment of the trial, when she
had just experienced a violent shock to her feelings, and one
of her finest answers to an odious question from one of the
jurymen ^ had produced a movement of admiration on the
' His name is unknown. He was evidently prompted by Hubert, who
was present at the trial.
229
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
part of the crowd, which for an instant interrupted the pro-
ceedings.-'- She noticed the impression she had made, and
having signed to me to go up to the steps within reach
of her, Her Majesty said to me in a low voice :
" Did I not put too much dignity into my answer ? "
" Madame," I answered, " be yourself, and you will always
do what is best. But why do you ask me ? "
"Because," said the Queen, "I heard a woman of the
people say to her neighbour : See how proud she is ! "
This remark shows us that the Queen still hoped; and
proves, too, that her blameless conscience made her alto-
gether mistress of herself, since amid all this violent mental
excitement she heard everything that was said by those
round her, and tried, in the cause of her own innocence, to
adapt both her silence and her speech to the situation. . . .
When the witnesses had all been examined, my colleague
and I were able to consult together, for a moment, as to the
best line to take in our speeches.
M. Tron^on-Ducoudray undertook to defend the prisoner
against the charge of conspiracy with the people's enemies in
France, while I was to deal with the charge of conspiracy
with the foreign powers.
Hardly had we agreed to this arrangement, and given each
other all the notes that might possibly bear on our respective
divisions of the subject, when at the end of a quarter of
an hour we were called back into the court and obliged
forthwith to speak without preparation.
There can be no doubt that, however great the talent that
M. Tron^on-Ducoudray showed in his address, and however
great the zeal I may have put into mine, our speeches for the
defence were necessarily unworthy of such a cause, for which
• "This was the moment when Marie Antoinette, on being questioned
with regard to the well-known infamous accusation, turned indignantly
towards the seats occupied by the public, and appealed to every mother.
At this sublime appeal a thrill passed through the audience ; the tricoteuges
were moved in spite of themselves, and it would have taken very little to
make them applaud. . . . Piercing cries arose, women were carried out
fainting, and the Court was obliged to call the audience to order."
Information communicated to Mme. Simon-Vouet by the brothers
Humbert, eye-witnesses. (Maxime de la Rooheterie, Histoire de Marie-
Antoinette.)
NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE
all the eloquence of a Bossuet or a F^nelon would not have
sufficed, or at least would have been powerless.
After pleading for two hours I was overcome with fatigue.
The Queen was kind enough to notice this, and said to me in
the most touching way :
" How tired you must be, M. Chauveau-Lagarde ! I am
very grateful for all your efforts ! "
These words were heard round her, and did not fail to
reach her enemies. The sitting was suspended for a moment,
before M. Tron9on-Ducoudray began to speak. I tried to
reach the Queen, but in vain, for a gendarme arrested
me under her very eyes. As soon as M. Tron^on-Ducoudray
had finished pleading he was arrested in her presence in the
same way ; and after that we were not allowed to speak
to her again.^
1 The Comte Horace de Viel-Castel, in Marie-Antoinette et la Revolution
fran^ise, gives a striking description of the sitting of October 15th
and 16th.
"At four o'clock (in the afternoon of the 15th) the sitting was suspended,
the audience partially dispersed, and several royalists who were present
in disguise hurried away to their friends with the good news : The Queen
will be banished. Some emissaries of the Jacobin Club and the Commune
slipped in among those whose anxiety or curiosity had prompted them to
remain, keeping a watchful eye upon the formei, and exciting the
revolutionary hatred of the others. Long intervals of silence followed,
interrupted spasmodically by curses directed against the accused, by
complaints against the judges, and \>j threats to disregard the verdict of
the jury if it were favourable to the Queen.
"Night falls early on the 15th October; the cold and melancholy
darkness gathered round the houses ; the audience, growing ever scantier,
drew together ; the proceedings were resumed ; the buzz of conversation
discreetly became fainter ; and by eleven o'clock there was no more
conversation. Everyone was in a. state of suspense. The passing and
re-passing of the messengers who, every quarter of an hour, were bringing
to Robespierre the minutest details of this long trial, was by midnight the
only interruption to the silence of the members, who sat round anxiously
watching the royal death-throes. An inspector of prisons called Duc§,tel,
followed by four or five of his subordinates, was trying to detect
conspirators, or at all events ' suspects,' in this remnant of a mob, still
afoot in the middle of the night, whom he did not recognise as his
comrades of the 6th October, 1789, nor yet as his comrades of September,
1792.
' ' The presence of DucStel, whose degraded face awakened so many
horrible memories in the minds of the royalists, had the effect of chasing
away such of the Queen's friends as feared to attract the attention of
Mme. de Lamballe's murderer, the man who had struck down Marie
Antoinette's brave and faithful companion with a hammer.
" The night was slipping by and the cold growing sharper when a voice
231
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
We were kept in custody in the registrar's office while the
jury were considering their verdict. It was impossible for us
to go to the Queen during this interval as we had prbmised,
and no doubt this must have made her acutely anxious as to
the issue of her trial, while to us it was a source of much
bitterness and sorrow. Soon the jury returned to the court
to announce the unanimous result of their deliberations.
Surrounded by gendarmes, among whom the Queen must
have seen us under arrest, we were led back to the court, to
hear, with her, the reading of that terrible decree that
sentenced her to death.
We could not listen to it undismayed. The Queen alone
heard it calmly. All that one could see was that there took
place in her soul at that moment a kind of revulsion of feeling
that struck me as very remarkable. She did not give the
least sign of fear, or indignation, or weakness ; but she was,
rang out with the announcement that the addresses to the jury were over.
Soon afterwards another voice, which seemed to come through a moment-
arily opened window, flung into the hall the words : The jury are consider-
ing their verdibt I
" Everyone drew near the doors. For a few moments there was a sound
like the dashing of waves upon a rocky shore, as the scattered groups
drew together into one, with much confused rustling and the shuffling of
many feet. Then silence fell again ; the supreme moment was at hand ;
friends and foes alike were in suspense. Even Duc^tel and his policemen
stood motionless, with their eyes turned towards the doors of the
Tribunal.
"At last, at four o'clock in the morning, the crowd who had just heard
the reading of the Queen's sentence left the court in a state of stupefaction,
and published as they went the news of this sentence of death that for a
moment had seemed improbable. From mouth to mouth the tidings
spread that Louis' widow was to be executed that very day in the Place
de la Revolution. The best-disposed people retired to their houses, and
closed their shutters against the sounds that would shortly be heard in
the streets ; while the most morbid repaired to the spot where the
execution was to take place, and took up their position there in the best
places, that is to say, the places nearest to the Bca£Ebld, which the
executioner's carpenters were already putting up.
" It was past four o'clock in the morning by the time the crowd, the
judges, the jury, and the gendarmes had left the hall of the Revolutionary
Tribunal. . . . Pouquier-Tinville had retired into a little room attached
to his chambers, and had flung himself, without undressing, on a bed . . .
while the jury, whose dinner had been hasty, went down to the refresh-
raeut-room and there awaited the daylight, seated before a supper that
they had ordered beforehand. . . . And while the public prosecutor was
asleep, and the jurymen were at their supper, the Queen was led back for
a few hours to her cell."
NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE
as it were, stunned by surprise. She came down the steps
without a word, without a gesture, and crossed the hall as
though she neither saw nor heard; then, when she reached
the barrier and faced the crowd, she raised her head with the
utmost dignity. It is plain that until that terrible
moment the Queen had continued to hope ; and yet, without
hesitating, she displayed the finest kind of courage, for it is
impossible to show any greater courage than that which
survives even hope itself.
In the meantime we were imprisoned in the Conciergerie,
whither we were led back after the reading of the sentence.
We were kept there in custody in separate places, and there
we passed the night. On the following day we were examined
by an emissary from the Tribunal, who was accompanied by
gendarmes. We were asked if the Queen had not told us of
any conspiracy or conspirator, and in spite of our resistance
we were searched like criminals, to make sure that she had not
entrusted us with any papers of importance. ... If the Queen
had confided a secret of any kind to us nothing could have
induced us to reveal it ; but in this respect our silence
deserves no credit. As it happened, however, the Queen had
given to M. Tron9on-Ducoudray, after I was arrested, in the
interval between our two speeches and just before he began to
speak, a sealed paper containing a lock of hair and two gold
rings which the Queen had worn as earrings; and she had
asked him to see that they reached the person for whom they
were intended. He was unable to recover this packet 'after it
had been taken from him, and its destination was easily
discovered without any words of his, seeing that the name
and address, which he told me afterwards he had forgotten,
were on the envelope."^
As for the question relating to possible revelations made to
us by the Queen, we answered that she had made none.
In my case they were very persistent. I was reminded that
during the trial the Queen had signed to me to go up to her
' It was Madame de Jarjayes, the Queen's first woman-of-the-bed-
chamber, whose husband had plaimed the escape from the Temple, and
who had herself won the Queen's confidence by her devotion. She was
arrested at this time for having received this honourable mark of the
Queen's remembrance. — {Note by Ckauveau-Lagarde.)
233
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
near the steps, so that she might speak to me in a low voice ;
and that at another time she had certainly spoken to me
mysteriously about Manuel, by which I plainly saw that the
latter had not been forgiven for failing to slander her. . . .
I said with perfect truth that on both these occasions, as on
all others, the Queen had only spoken to me on the subject
of her defence.
After we had been searched and examined we were left in
the prison ; and when we were set at liberty the Queen was no
more.
234
EXTRACT FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS
OF MOELLE^
A MEMBER OP THE COMMUNE AND A WITNESS IN THE TRIAL
(15th-16th October, 1793)
Those who were implicated, as well as the witnesses, were
heard in the order with which the public is already acquainted,
until about two o'clock in the afternoon, when the Court rose
for the first time. We were taken into the registrar's outer
office, where I dined with Bailly.
Beside us, at the same table, sat M. de la Tour-du-Pin,^
formerly Minister of War, and M. de la Tour-du-Pin-
Gouvemet, both of whom were implicated in the trial and
were afterwards condemned to death by the Revolutionary
Tribunal.
The proceedings were resumed at three o'clock, and those
of us who had not been confronted with the royal prisoner
were taken back to the precincts of the Tribunal, to the room
in which we had been during the morning. I was not called
at all on the first day, and at about ten o'clock at night I was
taken back to the Abbaye prison. On the following day, the
15th October, I was at last confronted with the Queen.
' We have already given the portion of Moelle's Narrative that concerns
the imprisonment in the Temple. We have given this further passage
separately because it supplements Chauveau-Lagarde's notes. Later on
we shall quote another extract from the same narrative, bearing more
particularly on the subject of the execution.
2 M. de la Tour-du-Pin, when he appeared before the Queen in the
Tribunal, made her a profound bow, which he repeated when he had
finished giving his evidence. The circumstances being what they were,
this act of homage to a woman ill the depths of misfortune showed a very
high degree of courage and determination.
235
LAST BAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
I was questioned as to the understanding that I was
accused of having had with the royal family in the Temple.
I answered, on this count, that I had never had any relations
with them but such as were entailed by the duties of my
office ; and that on the part of the royal family themselves I
had noticed nothing, the first time I was with them, beyond
the curiosity natural to prisoners in such circumstances ; and
that indeed I knew nothing whatever about the facts men-
tioned in the indictment.
I was on the point of mentioning a detail in the arrange-
ments at the Temple, and the system of constant vigilance
that obtained there, by way of trying to prove the falsity of
Hubert's infamous accusation against the Queen, when
Fouquier-Tinville, the public prosecutor, divining my inten-
tion, interrupted me rudely with a request to answer Ves or
No as to whether I had had any understanding with the
accused.
My answer was a decided negative, which I accompanied
with a gesture to the same effect. The royal prisoner, on
being questioned in her turn, answered in these precise words :
[ had no sort of wnderstanding with the witness. This was
the end of my evidence in the Queen's trial.
In the report of the trial my evidence was reduced to a single
sentence, although I was speaking for more than a quarter of
an hour. Finally, let me recall the parting glance with
which the august princess honoured me. . . . That must
always be my most cherished reward ! At that moment my
dearest hope was to die for the sacred cause to which I had
vowed myself, and my greatest pride was that I had earned
the happiness of doing so.^
That same evening I was taken back to the Abbaye. On
the following day, the 16th October, all of us who were con-
fined in that prison heard an extraordinary noise going on all
round, and this, combined with the sound of the firing of guns,
' As I crossed the space in front of the bench, which had been invaded
by a. large number of spectators, a man, who was standing by as I was
being led out of the court by two gendarmes, pressed my left arm and said
to me: "Bravo, citoyeni" I admit that I was grateful for this sign
that my behaviour in such circumstances had made a good impression on
those who were able to appreciate it. — (Note by Mo&le.)
236
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF MOELLE
inspired us with alarm — which was not ill-founded — as to
what was going forward outside.
Personally, when I heard the report of guns, I attributed it
to some attempt to oppose the Queen's execution, while the
trampling of the crowd that was audible round the prison-
walls I took to mean a repetition of the massacres that had
taken place almost exactly a year before.
I vacillated between these two theories.
Supposing it possible that this noise meant a successful
attempt in the direction of my wishes and hopes, it was a
matter for self-congratulation ; but if the other theory were
the correct one I had all the horrors before me of a second
storming of the prisons.
This uncertainty kept me in a state alternating between
terror and hope for more than two hours, at the end of which
time the turnkeys came to tell me that the noises we had
heard round the Abbaye were due to the efforts of the mob
to secure certain Austrian prisoners who were being brought
to this prison ; and that the guns were being fired to celebrate
9.J^e in honour of Marat. At that very moment one of the
most august and touching victims of that dreadful time was
being wickedly done to death.
2S7
THE EXECUTION
The Narratives of the Turnkey Larivi^re, the Officer of
Gendarmerie de Busne, the Gendarme L6ger, the Vieomte
Charles Desfoss6s, and de Rouy, author of Le Magicien
Eepuhlicain.
NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIERE'
TURNKEY IN THE CONOIEBGERIB
My father and mother, after having been for thirty years
in the service of Monseigneur le Due de Penthievre, Lord
High Admiral of France, were appointed by that excellent
prince to be the corwierges of the Admiralty Court.^
Our powerful patron, knowing that I was anxious to learn
the art of confectionery as thoroughly as possible, made
interest for me with the King's steward, and thus when I
was but fourteen years old I was an apprenticed pastrycook
in the King's own palace of Versailles.
The 6th October was an unfortunate day for me.
The royal family left the palace for ever ; two-thirds of
the household were discharged ; and I went off to Paris to the
bosom of my family.
' Louis Larivi^re was a pastrycook at Saint-Mand^ in 1824, when he told
his reoolleotions of the Queen's last hours to Lafont d'Aussonne. His
short story may be easily verified, and although it comes to us, like
Rosalie Lamorlifire's, through the pen of the Queen's unscrupulous
biographer, we believe it may be regarded as perfectly reliable.
* There is, in the Almanack Royal for 1780 and the following years, a
reference that confirms this statement. The Admiralty Court of France,
Marble table. Larivi^re, concierge and keeper of the re/reshment-room in the
Law Courts.
NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVI^RE
My father also lost his place some time afterwards, owing
to the suppression of the Admiralty Court; but as his
quarters were neither convenient nor pleasant, it did not occur
to anyone to deprive him of them. The windows of these
rooms, which were barred with enormous gratings, were on
the second floor, and looked out over the great Covr du Pr&au
within the precincts of the Conciergerie.
One day when Richard the gaoler came to see my old
father he saw me in the comer of the room, where for
want of something to do, I was sitting with my arms crossed.
" What do you mean to do," he said to my parent, " with
this great lazybones, who, as far as I can see, is strong and
well .'' If he can write, and I don't doubt that he can, you
must just hand him over to me. I am in need of a good
trustworthy turnkey. I will be a good master to him, and
the arrangement will enable you to see him often."
We were very willing to accept Richard's suggestion, and
I forthwith took up my duties in that vast Conciergerie that
I had hitherto only seen through our grated windows.
On the 2nd August, 1793, 1 was on duty at the entrance,
at the first inner door of the Conciergerie, and although I
was on guard I was asleep in a big leather armchair. Sud-
denly I heard someone knocking on the door, not with the
hammer, but heavily with the butt-end of a musket. I
promptly opened the iron grating, and then the entrance-
door, and saw a tall, beautiful woman, who was being brought
in by several officers and directors of the prison. The
moment the full light of the hall fell upon her face I re-
cognised her as my former revered mistress, the widow of the
King of France, who had been put to death. She was
dressed in a long black garment, which enhanced the extra-
ordinary whiteness of her skin. At that moment I thought
her little changed, because the agitation and exertion she
had just been through had revived all her natural colour.
Those who had brought her to the place intended at first
to confine her in the registrar's office, which opens out of the
entrance-hall ; but they quickly changed their minds, and,
turning to the right through the dark passage, they showed
Her Majesty to her room. At about six o'clock in the morn-
239
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
ing, when it was full daylight, the gaoler took me aside and
said : " Go off and find your mother, and tell her I have
decided to have her as the Queen's attendant for a few days.
Your mother's health is good, even if she is old. The
directors have accepted her for the post on my description of
her. I hope she will not distress me by refusing it."
I conveyed this proposition to my mother without delay.
She was greatly grieved to hear that the Queen of France
was likely to be tried at no distant date ; but on every
account she had no hesitation in going down to the
Conciergerie.
As she was admitted to the Queen's room before the ar-
rival of the two gendarmes, she had time to make her
personal sentiments plainly understood ; and as she was an
intelligent woman, and had lived among the great ones of
the earth all her life, she was able to express herself in a few
tactful words, which won her the immediate approval and
even the regard of the Queen. She had been handsome in
her youth, and in her old age she was neither repellent nor
unpleasing. She always told us that Her Majesty had
treated her nmch better them she had any right to expect.
My mother told the Queen that I had been in her own
service, and that now I was reduced to accepting employment
in the prison.
The day after she took up her duties my mother left the
Queen's cell for a moment, and commissioned me to go out
and buy half a yard of voile or of some other woollen
material; with which to patch Her Majesty's black dress,
which \ra,s torn under both arms and frayed round the hem
by the constant friction of stone floors. I was further
ordered to buy some sewing-silk, some thread, and some
needles, and to return quickly.
When I entered the Queen's cell with the various little
articles I have just mentioned, and gave them to my good
mother, Her Majesty condescended to thank me with a
gracious movement of her head.
After four or five days the directors of the prison told my
mother that this post was too arduous for her age, and
replaced her by a young woman called Harel, who in the
240
NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIlfcRE
course of the following month denounced Michonis, and the
stranger who brought in the carnation with the hidden
paper.
Before this unlucky aiFair of the carnation the hardships of
the Conciergerie were not altogether intolerable. The eight
turnkeys were on duty for seven consecutive days, and were
free on the eighth. One day M. Gilbert-des-Voisins, Presi-
dent of the Parlement, took me privately into a comer and
spoke as follows : " Lariviere, you seem to me to be a good
fellow. It depends on yourself to make your fortune and
save my life. I cannot explain my meaning to you here, but
the day after to-morrow is your free day, and my valet will
go and see you at your own home. I implore you to listen to
the suggestions I have empowered him to make to you."
We separated, for fear of being observed, and two days
later the president's valet came to see me as arranged, in a
little room on the Quai de I'Horloge, which I rented for the
sake of liberty. He said to me : " Lariviere, all M. Gilbert-des-
Voisin's immense possessions have been seized and sequestrated;
his house is full of officials ; his enemies have sworn that he
shall die, and he is a dead man if you do not help him. I
was fortunate enough to save from the wreck a sum of
eighteen thousand francs in gold, which I have put in a safe
place. My master empowers me to offer it to you (till we
can do better) on condition that you help him to escape by
the dark passage to the chapel, the passage that leads down
to the little spiral staircase and ends in the outer court of the
Sainte-Chapelle.'"
I answered this poor young man that all the treasures of
the world could not make it possible to carry out this plan of
escape, seeing that the enormous bolts of all these old doors
were chained to make them immovable, and that unless the
sentry on guard outside were first murdered the least noise
within would betray what was going on.
A few days after this the affair of the flower took place in
the Queen's cell. On the very same day Fouquier heard of it,
when he made his ordinary visit of inspection in the evening.
On the following day all permits were cancelled ; all the
turnkeys and other persons employed about the place were
241 B
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
forbidden to leave the building until further orders ; Richard
was taken off to prison with his family, and replaced by the
gaoler from La Force, whose name was Bault.
In Richard's time I was sometimes employed in the kitchen,
when there was too much work for Rosalie ; and feeling that
this was an opportunity of being useful to Her Majesty I
liked best to prepare the dishes that Rosalie intended for her.
One day I was cooking some peas for the Queen when one of
the directors of the prison, who knew what I was doing, came
prying round the range. While I was attending to something
else he took the opportunity of presuming to lift the lid of
my saucepan. I happened to see it, and the moment his
back was turned I took the peas and threw them into the
cinders, for I feared the rascal might have poisoned them.
Four or five times Madame Richard found it convenient to
send me to the Queen's cell instead of Rosalie, who no doubt
was otherwise employed. I carried in Her Majesty's meals
on these occasions. She thanked me with a movement of her
head, without speaking.
While my mother was there I went into the cell one day in
the uniform of the National Guard, for I was not exempted
from serving in that body by my new emplojmient. Her
Majesty said to my mother : " Pray ask your son, our former
servant, not to wear that uniform again in my presence,
for it reminds me of the 6th October and all the misfortunes
of my family."
The next time I saw my mother at home she spoke to me
briefly, and very sadly, on this subject ; and in obedience to
Her Majesty's wishes I no longer wore my imiform in the
prison.
On the 16th October, at ten o'clock in the morning, the
gaoler Bault told me to go and wait for him in the Queen's
cell, and to take away any cups or glasses there might be on
the table. He gave me this order, I fancy, so that I might
see what was about to take place, and that having seen it, I
might describe it to him afterwards ; which is exactly what
occurred.
When the Queen saw me come into her cell she said to me
sadly : " Lariviere, you know that they are going to put me
242
NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIERE
to death ? . . . Tell your good mother that I thank her
for her care of me, and that I entreat her to pray for me."
I had hardly entered the cell (where I saw a new officer of
gendarmerie), before the judges arrived with their registrar
Fabricius. Her Majesty, who was on her knees beside her
truckle-bed, rose to receive them. The president said : " Pay
attention : your sentence is about to be read to you " ; and
they all four uncovered their heads, which was never their
custom on occasions of the kind. It seemed to me that they
were almost startled by the Queen's air of majesty and
goodness.
" It is needless to read it," said the Queen in a clear voice.
" I know the sentence only too well." " No matter," answered
one of the men ; " it must be read to you again." Her
Majesty made no answer, and the registrar began to read.
Just as he had finished I saw the chief executioner, Henri
Sanson,^ come into the room. He was a young man at that
time, and immensely tall. He came up to the Queen and
said, " Hold out your hands." Her Majesty recoiled a step
or two, and answered in a troubled voice, " Are my hands to
be bound ? Louis XVI.'s were not bound." The judges said
to Sanson, " Do your duty."
" Oh, my God ! " cried the Queen distractedly.
As she spoke Henri roughly seized her poor hands and
bound them too tightly behind her back. I saw the Queen
raise her eyes to heaven with a sigh, but though her tears
were ready to flow she restrained them.
When her hands were bound Sanson removed her cap and
cut off her hair.
Her Majesty perhaps thought they were going to kill her
on the spot, for she turned romid with a look of deep emotion,
and saw the executioner taking possession of her hair and
' The chief executioner in October, 1793, was Charles Henri Sanson, who
was born in 1739 and was therefore • no longer a young man. His son
Henri Sanson succeeded him on the 18th Fructidor, year III., but long
before this had been in the habit of taking his father's place at executions.
It has been alleged that Charles Henri died of grief for having guillotined
Louis XVI. ! It is hardly necessary to say that this is legendary ; but as
a matter of fact he never performed the duties of his office after Jan. 21st.
His son, though not officially appointed, practically replaced him. On
the whole Larivi^re's statements are correct.
243 R 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
putting it in his pocket to carry away. (It was burnt in the
great vestibule after the execution.)
This is what I saw : this is what I would I had never seen :
this is what I shall never forget as long as I live.
P.S. — I must not omit to say that the gendarme Gilbert,
and Dufrene too, received a commission after the Queen's
death. Gilbert, in spite of my parents' opposition, won the
heart of my sister Julie, and married her. He made her the
unhappiest woman in the world, for he was the most depraved
gendarme that ever lived. One day he went off and gambled
away all the funds belonging to his company, and then blew
his brains out in despair.^
1 Here Larivi^re's story ceases. Lafont d'Aussonne has added a few
lines on the subject of Marie Antoinette's Communion, but we will not
repeat them, having already warned our readers of that historian's par-
ticular bias.
2U
THE NARRATIVE OF DE BUSNE
Louis FRAN901S de Busne entered the Dauphin's regiment in
1757. He served under Louis XV., Louis XVI., and Napoleon,
and at the time of the Restoration was serving in the Hotel des
Invalides as senior adjutant. He had then seen twenty-nine
years of service and seven campaigns. He was a Knight of the
Legion of Honour. (Archives of the War Office.)
There is in existence a letter written by him in I8I6 to
Madame la duchesse d'Angoul^me, in which he makes the most
of his considerate behaviour to the Queen. "I am," he says,
" that officer whom M. de Montjoie in his immortal Histoire de
Marie Antoinette, your august mother, describes as being de-
nounced, arrested, and accused, because he had obeyed the
dictates of his heart, and in his willingness to end his days
under the knife of the revolutionaries had done his duty with
respect and devotion." He then demanded the Order of Saint
Louis.
It is true that de Busne, whose name Rosalie Lamorli^re
mentions at the end of her story, was Marie Antoinette's last
" body-guard." He it was who, as officer of the Gendarmerie of
the Tribunals, accompanied her to the court where she was tried,
and took her back to the cell where she was to await the hour
of her martyrdom.
On this occasion he was guilty of an unpardonable crime.
He held his hat in his hand while he was escorting the accused :
he took the trouble of going to fetch her a glass of water : and
finally he offered her his arm to help her down the dark stair-
case of the prison. In the evening of that very day he mas de-
nounced !
If we reproduce here the few lines he wrote in his own
defence it is not nearly so much for the sake of the details they
record as to show how great must have been the terror that the
Revolutionary Tribunal inspired in everyone, since an officer in
245
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
the army humiliated himself so far as to apologise, as though for
serious faults, for behaving with ordinary consideration towards a
woman who was about to die.
What is the crime of which I am accused by this citizen ^
and those who share his opinions ? Of having given a glass
of water to the accused, because the citizen ushers were for
the moment absent on the service of the Tribunal : of having
held my hat in my hand, which I did for my own convenience
because the weather was hot, and not from respect for a
woman who was condemned to death, as I believe, justly.
That excellent citizen the public prosecutor had given us
to understand that there was an officer appointed to escort the
prisoner, in accordance with the usual practice in the prison.
As the Widow Capet was walking along the passage on her
way to the inner staircase of the Conciergerie, she said to
me : "I can hardly see where I am going." I offered her my
right arm, and with its help she descended the staircase.
She took it again as she went down the three slippery steps of
the yard. It was to prevent her from falling that I behaved
in this way, and no sensible man could detect any other
motive in my action ; for if she had fallen on the stairs there
would have been an outcry about conspiracy, and treason,
and the undoubted complicity of the gendarmerie. How is
it possible to distort my motives ? The laws of nature, my
mission, and the laws of the most formidable of States, all
taught me that it was my duty to keep her safe for the
accomplishment of her sentence.
Signed: De Busne.
Lieutenant of gendarmerie quartered
at the Courts of Law, and Member of
the popular Society of French Guards.
' Jourdeuil, gendarme of the Tribunala, who had denounced de Busne.
246
NARRATIVE OF THE GENDARME
LEGER^
(Extracts from the Recollections of Moelle, Member of the Commune)
I HAVE discovered, in connection with the Queen's last
moments in prison, some details that have hitherto been
unknown, or have, at all events, been unpublished until
now.
A gendarme called Leger, formerly a grenadier in the
French Guards, whom I noticed among those who were
guarding the Queen while I was giving my evidence at the
trial, and who, when I saw him again, was keeping a little
eating-house behind the Military School, told me that he and
another gendarme had been appointed to guard the royal
victim after the sentence had been pronounced.
According to Leger the Queen did not return to the room
she had hitherto occupied in the Conciergerie. She was
taken to a room that was built up in a corner of the
registrar's outer office and was generally occupied by such
of the condemned prisoners as could not be executed till the
day after they were sentenced. It was here that the Queen
spent her last night.
1 M. Campardon accepted this evidence, and in a matter of this kind
the opinion of that eminent historian is of great weight. If, however,
we are to believe that Marie Antoinette did not return to her ordinary
cell on the 16th October, we must reject Rosalie's story as well as that of
Mme. Bault. We may remark in passing that Moelle's evidence must be
received cautiously in this matter, since he makes a mistake himself. " It
was here," he says, "that the Queen spent her last night." The night
was spent in the Tribunal : it was past four o'clock in the morning when
the sentence was pronounced.
247
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
According to this same man Leger the Queen asked for
some food, and a chicken was put before her, of which she
ate a wing. Before going to bed she also asked if she might
change her chemise The gaoler's wife procured a clean
one for her.
The Queen, according to this authority, slept fairly well,
and rose at about five o'clock in the morning.^ Then she
asked to have some chocolate brought to her, and it was
procured from the cafe near the entrance of the Conciergerie.
They only brought her what is called a mignonette, which
Leger thought such an insufficient quantity that he abstained
from tasting it — the usual test of all the food eaten by the
royal victim.
When she rose she put on the white dress that she was seen
wearing on the scaffold. When the time came for her final
ordeal she was led from the room where she had passed the
night into the registrar's office, between two rows of gen-
darmes reaching from the door of the room to that of the
office. In the office her hair was cut off — the hair that was
blanched by so many sorrows. It was in a deplorable state
of disorder
The Queen only left this fatal building to enter the cart,
which awaited her at the door of the Conciergerie, and
conveyed her to the spot where her troubles ceased for ever.
' As we have already said, the Queen did not leave the Tribunal until
shortly before five in the morning.
248
THE NARRATIVE OF DESESSARTS^
At five o'clock the assembly was sounded in all the Sections
of Paris ; at seven all the troops were afoot, and guns were
mounted at the ends of every bridge, in all the squares, and
at every jimction of roads that lay between the Law Courts
and the Place de la Revolution ; at ten o'clock numbers of
patrols scoxired the streets of Paris ; the traffic was stopped
in the streets through which Marie Antoinette was to pass ;
at eleven o'clock she came out of the Conciergerie, dressed in
a loose garment of white pique. She entered the executioner's
cart, where a constitutional priest sat at her side ; and she
was escorted by numerous detachments of gendarmerie, some
on foot, some mounted.
Marie Antoinette, as she passed by, looked indifferently at
the troops that lined the streets through which she had to
drive. There was no sign of dejection on her face, nor yet of
pride ; she looked quite calm, and seemed hardly to notice
the cries of Vive la Republiqiie ! Doxmi with tyrammy ! that
rose as she went by. It was observed that she said very
little to the confessor, and that she looked with indifferent
eyes at the people who were at the windows. She seemed to
notice the tricoloured pennants in the Rue Saint-Honore ;
and she was observed to glance at the inscriptions fixed upon
the house-fronts. At twelve o'clock, when she reached the
Place de la Revolution, she turned her eyes towards the
Garden of the Tuileries, and at that moment she changed
colour and grew much paler than before. She then ascended
the scaffold, and the knife fell.
1 Published in the year VII. in Les Prods fameux jug4s depuis la
Rivolutim, Vol. IV., p. 176.
249
THE NARRATIVE OF THE
VICOMTE CHARLES DESFOSSES^
The gate opened and the victim appeared, pale, but every
inch a Queen. Behind her came Sanson, the executioner,
holding the ends of a thick cord, which held back the elbows
of the Royal prisoner. She walked the necessary yard or
two to reach the step of the cart, which had been sup-
plemented by a little ladder of four or five rungs. The
executioner, who guided the Queen's footsteps, was followed
by an assistant. Sanson supported the victim with his hand.
The Queen — it was indeed the Queen ! — turned round gravely
to climb over the seat and sit down facing the horses, but the
two executioners indicated that she was to take the opposite
place. Meanwhile the priest climbed into the cart. These
arr^-ngements took some time.
One circumstance that struck me was that the executioner
was obviously careful to allow the cords he was holding to
hang loosely and freely. He stood behind the Queen, sup-
porting himself against the boards of the cart ; his assistant
was at the back ; they both stood and held their three-
cornered hats in their hands. The cart, when it had left the
court, passed slowly along through an enormous crowd of
people, who thronged the streets through which it went, but
neither shouted, nor muttered, nor insulted the prisoner. It
was only at the entrance to the Rue Saint-Honore, after a
long drive, that any disturbance arose. The priest said little
or nothing.
1 Quoted by M. H. Wallon, in his Histoire du Tribunal E4volutioimaire
de Perns, Vol. I., p. 349.
260
THE QUEEN ON HER WAY TO THE SCAFFOLD.
Sketched from [nature by David, from a window in the Rue Saint-Honor^,
October 16, 1793.
251
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
I had time to observe the details of the Queen's appearance
and of her dress. She wore a white skirt with a black
petticoat under it, a kind of white dressing-jacket, some
narrow silk ribbon tied at the wrists, a plain white muslin
fichu, and a cap with a bit of black ribbon on it. Her hair
was quite white and was cut short round her cap ; her face was
pale, but there was a touch of red upon the cheek-bones ;
her eyes were bloodshot and the lashes motionless and stiff.
The Queen did not utter a word to the priest till they were
opposite to the entrance to the Jacobin Club, which was then
a passage. On the arch that surmounted the gate of this
passage a large placard had been fixed, bearing this inscrip-
tion : Manufactory of republican arms for the destruction of
tyramts. I thought the Queen must have had some difficulty
in reading it, for she suddenly turned to the priest and seemed
to be asking him something, whereupon, for a moment, he
held up a little ivory crucifix upon which his eyes had been
fastened the whole time. At the same instant Grammont,^
who had been escorting the cart from the first, raised his
sword, brandished it about in every direction, and, standing
up in his stirrups, shouted in a loud voice some words that
I could not catch ; then turned towards the fatal cart with an
oath : " There she is," he cried ; " there is the infamous, the
accursed Antoinette, my friends!" A few drunken shouts
arose in response, and then one of my friends made a sign to
me as we had arranged, and I slipped into the crowd. We
were forced to give up all hope of saving the Queen.
^ Grammont had once been an actor. He took part in the massacre of
the prisoners from Orl^ns, at Versailles, and boasted of having drunk
from the skull of one of his victims. Oampardon, Le, Tribunal rivolution-
naire de Paris, Vol. I., p. 149.
252
THE NARRATIVE OF ROUY^
Author of Le Magicien BSpuhlicain
The trial was brought to a close on the 23rd, or, according
to the old reckoning, on "V^ednesday, the 16th, at half-past
four in the morning, by the reading of the sentence of the
Tribunal, which condemned the prisoner to the penalty of
death. She listened to it with great composure, and came
down into the court with a step as light as when she entered
the boudoirs of Saint- Cloud and Trianon to indulge in her
voluptuous pleasures, and to make that great lout, her
husband Capet, a bigger fool than he was already. She then
gave a gold ring, and a packet containing some of her hair,
to one of her counsel,^ to give to a woman called Hiary,
who lived at Livry with Citoyenne Laborde, and whom she
declared to be her friend. Then she asked for a confessor to
assist her at the last ; and as, like any other criminal, she
was afraid of being seen, she begged for a carriage to convey
her to the scaffold, or a veil to cover her head. But as this
sort of favouritism would have been an offence to the
principle of equality she was refused these things, on the
ground that she was required to suffer the utmost rigour of
the law.
At twelve or fifteen minutes past eleven she came out of
the prison of the Conciergerie, and climbed into the same
cart that was used when any other condemned prisoner was
to be taken off to the scaffold. She was dressed in a white
' Quoted by Dauban.
" This is false. Tron^on-Ducoudray and Chauveau-Lagarde had been
arrested, as we have seen, before the sentence was even pronounced.
253
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
morning-wrapper, and on her head was a very common cap.
Her hair was cut short, and her hands were tied behind her
back. Her face was pale and very languid, but this was due
to her bad state of health in the prison more than to the
approach of the just penalty that she was about to suffer ;
for though she looked rather downcast as she got into the
cart she never lost the proud, haughty expression and bearing
that were so characteristic of her. Throughout the journey
from the Law Courts to the foot of the scaffold she was
calmly looking about her at the vast crowd, who filled the
air with cries of Vive la RSpublique ! When she reached the
Place de la Revolution she looked earnestly, with some
emotion, at the palace of the Tuileries. Her confessor, who
sat beside her, spoke to her, but she seemed not to be listen-
ing to him, nor even to be conscious that he was speaking.
The cart drew up before the scaffold, and she alighted easily
and promptly, without requiring any support, though her
hands were still tied. In the same way she ascended the
scaffold with an air of bravado : she seemed calmer and more
undisturbed even than when she left the prison. Without
saying a word to the people or the executioners she submitted
to the final preparations, shaking her cap from her head
herself. Her execution and the horrible prelude lasted for
about four minutes. At a quarter-past twelve precisely her
head fell under the iron avenger of the law, and the execu-
tioner showed it to the people amid repeated shouts of Vive
la Ripublique ! Vive la liberty !
While the executioners were untying the cords that bound
her body to the plank so that they might put her remains
into the basket that was waiting to receive them, one of the
men searched her pocket, and drew from it a little box, which
he instantly opened. He took out of it the portraits of
her favourite Lafayette and of her husband, and showed
them to the people, who shouted louder than ever : Vive la
Republique ! ^
' This last detail appears to be absolute invention. Apart from the
fact that Lafayette is well known to have been, for many reasons, anything
but a favourite with the Queen, we have already seen that the latter had
been deprived of all her trinkets while she was in the Conoiergerie.
254
MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL
When Marie Antoinette, at half-past four in the morning, left
the Tribunal where she had just been condemned to death, she
wrote to Madame Elizabeth the letter that has so often been
pi-itited under the title of The Queen's Will. This writing is
sublime in its heartrending simplicity, but is so well known that
it is unnecessary to give the entire text of it here. We will
merely observe that Madame Elizabeth never received this letter.
No one even took the trouble to inform her of the Queen's death.
When, on the 20th Flor6al, year II., the Princess in her turn was
brought from the Temple to the Conciergerie, she inquired
eagerly after the Queen, — whom she called " her sister,"— and
asked Richard if it were long since he had seen her. He
answered : " She is very well, and wants for nothing."
Throughout the night Madame Elizabeth appeared uneasy.
She perpetually asked Richard to tell her the time ; for he was
sleeping in a dark room adjoining the recess where she herself
was lying down. She rose early : Richard had already risen.
She again asked the time, and Richard took out his watch to show
her the hour, and made it strike. " My sister,'' she said, " had
one rather like it ; but she never wound it up." She took nothing
but a little chocolate : then, at eleven o'clock, she went out to
the entrance of the prison. A number of grandes dames, who
were going to the scaffold with her,i had already gathered at the
door. Among them was Madame de S6nozan, the sister of the
minister Malesherbes who defended the King, and the best and
most charitable of women. Madame Elizabeth begged Richard
to remember her to her sister. Then one of the ladies spoke.
' In addition to Mme. de S^nozan the hatch included five members of
the family of Lomenie de Brienne, the widowed Mme. de Montmorin and
her son, etc.
255
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
"Madame," she said, "your sister has suffered the fate that we
are about to suffer ourselves." ^
The Queen's last letter, then, was cruelly intercepted. Bault the
gaoler, to whom the condemned woman entrusted it, gave the
paper to Fouquier-Tinville, who wrote his signature on it and kept
it for some time.
After the ninth Thermidor the commission charged with
examining Robespierre's papers appointed Edme Bonaventure
Com-tois, deputy of the Aube and manufacturer of sabots at Arcis,
to draw up a report on the subject. Courtois, who had remained
almost unknown through the Terror, quickly achieved, thanks to
this inquiry that had been entrusted to him, a certain amount of
fame. The energy he brought to bear on his mission is well
known, for an enormous number of copies were printed of his
report, which filled two volumes ; but what Courtois was very
careful to keep to himself was that one day, when he was alone
in the house of the carpenter Duplay, where Robespierre lived,
he made a very minute search in Maximilien's room, and found, in
a secret recess very skilfully contrived underneath the bed of the
Incorruptible, various valuable books and papers, not to mention a
picture, all of which were connected with the royal family.^
No doubt this fact may be denied, for we have no evidence on
the subject but that of Courtois' son ; but it is incontestable,
apparently, that Robespierre was guilty of a much more serious
fault than the pilfering of a picture and a few interesting books.
He had appropriated the letter in which the Queen, in the hour
of her death, bade farewell to her children. In every country
and in every age the last wishes of the dying have been con-
sidered sacred ; but this sentiment was unknown to the heartless
man who personified the cold ethics of the Revolution. The
Queen's letter was actually found in his room by Courtois :
Robespierre had begged it of Fouquier-Tinville, who was able
to refuse him nothing. What use did he mean to make of it }
' Souvenir de I'Intemonce a Paris pendant la Eivolution.
^ ' ' Robespierre was an unscrupulous collector. The conventionist, who
was apparently interested in literature and art, took possession of books
and pictures as it suited him, and in his desire to conceal how he obtained
them, hid them between his mattresses ! ! ! Yes, it was actually between
his mattresses that the bibliophile Robespierre hid various classics bear-
ing the arms of the royal family, such as the Letters of Cicero, the Works
of Seneoa, etc. , of which the conventionist must undoubtedly have taken
possession in the Temple, after Louis XVI. 's death."
Paul Eudel, L'hdtel Drouot et la curiosiU. The picture and the books
in question were shown at the historical exhibition at Orleans in 1876.
256
MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL
Why ! the same use that Courtois meant to make of it when^
understanding instantly the value of his discovery^ he folded up
the paper that was still stained with the Queen's tears, put it in
his pocketj and without saying a word to anyone took off to his
own house the only legacy that the poor woman had bequeathed
to her children. The years passed by. Courtois, having become
a member of the Committee of General Security, afterwards
joined the Council of Ancients, and made himself conspicuous
by his counter-revolutionary ardour. He pursued the Jacobins
with special harshness, suspecting them always of conspiracy.
The coup d'Etat of the 18th Brumaire had no warmer partisan: he
was elected a tribune, but at the time of the first " elimination "
an accusation of embezzlement pbliged him to part from his
colleagues. Having assumed the name of Degon he entered
into a partnership with an army contractor, and took advantage
of his position as a member of the Committee of General
Security to intimidate his partner into giving him profits to
which he had no right. On the first occasion he extorted a
hundred and twenty thousand francs from him ; then twelve
thousand more ; and finally, having ruined him, he bought his
bills of credit and from the remnant of the poor man's fortune
made a fortune for himself, which was no doubt exaggerated by
his enemies, but was certainly not acquired by selling sabots at
Arcis-sur-Aube.i
Courtois, being rejected by the parliamentary Assemblies,
gave up politics. That pursuit, indeed, had already given him
every advantage he could expect to gain from it. Preferring
not to return to his own country, where his character was known,
he bought a kind of chateau at Rambluzin, in the department of
the Meuse, where he settled down comfortably and became the
seigneur of the village. Those to whom his doors were opened
noticed a good deal of magnificent furniture in his house — the
direct descendants, it would appear, of the furniture of the
ancient royal palaces ; but after the Revolution, when so many
people had fished in troubled waters, very little attention was
paid to unedifying surprises of this kind. In any case Courtois
^ Eugene Welvert, La saiaie des po/piers du conventionnel Courtois.
Archives historiques, a/rtistiques, et litUraires, 1890. We cannot do better
than refer our readers, for the whole of this Courtois aflfair, to the
remarkable and accurate study in which M. Eugfene Welvert supports his
statements by so many authorities. We have taken this work as our sole
guide ; but our short abstract is quite insufficient to give all the aspects of
this interesting story, which should be read in the original version.
257 s
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
lived peaceably at Rambluzin until January, 1816, when the
Chamber of Deputies passed the so-called law of Amnesty, of
which Article 7 condemned to perpetual banishment from the
kingdom the regicide conventionists who had adhered to the
Acte Additionnel. Courtois was of their number. But he was
sixty-two years old, his health was not very good, and he was
moreover very comfortable on his estate at Rambluzin. Then it
was that he remembered having carefully secreted a certain
talisman in a safe place, lest some crisis of this kind should
occur. The Queen's Will should win a pardon for him : and he
promptly addressed to M. Becquey, Councillor of State, a letter
that was intended to open negotiations.
Rambluzin, 9,5th Jan. 1816.
Monsieur,
My absolute faith in your humanity and loyal principles
prompts me to address you directly, rather than anyone else,
with a view to entrusting you with a secret of the first
importance, of which you will not, I am sure, make any
unworthy use.
During the time. Monsieur, that I was a member of the
Commission' charged with examining the papers of Robes-
pierre and other conspirators, I thought it my duty to
abstract from the portfolio that contained them certain docu-
ments of the greatest interest to the royal family, documents
that may be regarded as real historical records. It is most
fortunate that they were saved from the destruction that
certainly awaited them, so greatly was their publication
feared ! I append to my letter a list of the original papers and
other articles.
Being uncertain whether I shall still be in France when
your answer reaches my house I have placed this little collec-
tion of treasures in the hands of a person of known integrity,
who will only give it up in obedience to a direct order from
myself.
No one but my wife is in the secret, and the friend who has
charge of the packet does not even know what it contains;
he thinks there is nothing in it but some family papers that
he will be expected to make public after I have gone away.
I should also tell you that Madame the late Duchesse
258
MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL
de Choiseul, to whom I was fortunate enough to render
important services during the Revolution, and from whom I
have in my possession some cherished letters relating to
myself, was the only person who knew of the existence of
these papers. Even she, however, did not know of the first
and most important, for she would certainly have asked me
for a copy of that, and I should not have known how to
refuse her. But my wife went so far as to present her with a
very small lock of the Queen's hair, and a little piece of
plaited braid that she begged for very earnestly.
I intended last year to have these sacred objects conveyed
to His Majesty ; but unfortunately I could not recall where
I had put them, my many changes of residence having con-
fused my memory in this respect. It was only a month ago,
more or less, that I found them again, and firmly determined
to have them conveyed to the destination that is really theirs
by right.
The first document, and the most important of all, begins
with these words : It is to you, sister (Madame Elizabeth no
doubt), thut I write my last letter ; I have just been sentenced,
not to a shameful death, for it is only shameful to criminals,
but to go and join your brother ; amd being, like him, innocent,
I hope to show the same firmness that he showed in those last
moments, etc. It ends with these words : My good, loving
sister, I trust this letter may reach you ! Think of me always :
I embrace you with my whole heart, and those poor dear
children too. Mon Dieu, how heart-breaking it is to leave
them for ever! Farewell, farewell! I shall think of nothing
now but my spiritual duties. As I am not a free agent they
mayperha/ps bring me a priest, but I here protest that I shall not
say a word to him and shall treat him, as an absolute stranger.
This letter contains two rather closely-written pages of
ordinary paper of about quarto size. It may be regarded as a
kind of last will and testament, corresponding to the will of
his late Majesty Louis XVI. The writing is in some places
blurred with tears, which shows how deeply this august
Princess was moved while writing this masterpiece of pro-
found feeling, which I shall always congratulate myself on
having saved. This letter is not signed ; but it is impossible
259 s 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
to doubt its authenticity when one compares it with others
that are. Moreover, its genuineness is proved by the fact
that the signature of A. G. Fouquier-Tinville is written at
the bottom of it, together with those of the members of the
Commission : Legot, Guifroy, Massieu, and L. Le Cointre.
Second letter. — This seems to be addressed to Madame la
Duchesse d'Angouleme, and contains only six lines as follows :
" / want to write to you, my dear child, to tell you that I ami
well ; I am calm, and should be quite at peace if I knew that
my poor child were free Jrom anxiety. I embrace you, and
your aunt too, with all my heart. Send me some silk
stockings, a dimity jacket, an underskirt, and the stocking I am
knitting.'''' This letter is unsigned. The signatures of the
commissioners are at the bottom of it.
The third letter is addressed to the President of the
Convention, and asks that the trial may be delayed for three
days, in order that the counsel for the defence, Tronson and
Chauveau, may have time to prepare their case, _/or, says the
Queen, / owe it to my children to neglect nothing that is
necessary for the justification of their mother. This letter is
signed Marie Antoinette, and the same signatures follow that
were mentioned above.
Fourth letter. — From a young lawyer called Marie
Antoine Martin, Maison Saint-Pierre, 585 Rue des Cordiers,
asking Fouquier-Tinville to propose him to the Queen as, her
official counsel.
Fifth letter. — Anonymous ; filled with threats expressed
in a very unpleasant tone, and addressed to Fouquier.
Sixth packet. — The Examination of the Queen, after her
return from Varennes, by the three commissioners of the Con-
stituent Assembly : Tronchet, d' Andre, and Adrien Duport.
Seventh packet. — A kid glove that belonged to Mon-
seigneur the Dauphin.
Eighth packet. — A little piece of the Queen's hair, about
as thick as one's finger, wrapped in a quarter of a sheet of
the Temps newspaper.
Ninth packet. — A parcel of thread, netting, etc., materials
for work, no doubt, by the help of which the august prisoner
beguiled the weary hours of her captivity.
260
MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL
Tenth packet. — A little letter as follows, addressed to the
Queen and professing to be signed by Danton : " Citoyenne,
put these words on your door: Unity, indivisibility of the
Republic, liberty, equality, fraternity, or death.'''' Signed
Danton, and also signed like the others.
This, Monsieur, is all that I was foi'tunate enough to
secure. You, if anyone, will understand their value.
You may rest assured that no copy has ever been made of
these documents, of which no one knew but the members of
the Commission, who never learnt what had become of them.
And the regicide ended by begging',his August Sovereign to grant
him, if not a complete pardon in exchange for these relics of the
Queen, at least a respite of fifteen or eighteen months. By thus
delaying his exile he hoped to succeed in being forgotten.
The minister's answer to these advances is very pleasing : " If
these letters can be had for money, money will be given for them :
as for the individual, the measure applies to everyone, and no
exception can be made."
But before this contemptuous refusal reached him Courtois had
been bereft of his talisman. The Prefect of the Meuse, having been
informed that some of Courtois' furniture seemed originally to have
been Crown property, despatched a Justice of the Peace and
several gendarmes to his house, to make sure that he did not take
abroad with him anything valuable belonging to the State. They
took the opportunity of inspecting his papers, and discovered the
portfoUo containing the Queen's letter and the various relics of
the prisoners of the Temple, enumerated by Courtois. The whole
of his little scheme fell to the ground. He was not in the least
discouraged, however, and tried to assume an air of virtuous
dignity. Two days later he addressed to M. de Maussion, the
Prefect of the Meuse, a long letter from which we will only quote
the first lines, since they will show us all we need to know of the
ex-conventionist's ignoble mind.^
M. le Prefet, I cannot help congratulating myself on the
fact that the letters of the august Marie Antoinette have
fallen into hands so honourable as yours, and will be presented
to His Majesty without delay.
^ The letter is given in full in M. Eugene Welvert's study.
261
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
My reason, M. le Prefet, for not confiding in you first of
all, was that my wife had insisted on my sending the letters
to M. Becquey, Councillor of State, whom she knew personally.
On the very day of her death ^ I wrote to that gentleman
with regard to the articles in my possession, and that I took
this step proves, at all events, that I made a free and
independent offer to the Government to hand over these
important papers to them.
Perhaps you would like to know how these precious objects
fell into my hands. I will do nfyself the honour of telling
you.
After Robespierre's death two Commissions were success-
ively appointed to examine his papers and those of his
accomplices. As, owing to party spirit, the first did not win
the confidence of the Assembly, they appointed a second, of
which I was a member. It was in the course of drawing up
a report of this inquiry — a duty that devolved upon me and
occupied me for five whole months, M. le Prefet — that I
became possessed of these precious relics, which had originally
been in the hands of the Revolutionary Tribunal,^ as is proved
by the signatures of Fouquier, procureur of that infamous
court, and of the four representatives of Versailles, Legot,
Massieu, Gufiroy, and L. Le Cointre.
The times were not then sufficiently propitious for these
things to be put to any use ; and such was the vertigo, so to
speak, from which certain heads were then suffering, that
these historical records, which posterity will place in the
very first rank, were on the point of being destroyed. To
save them from the flames that threatened them I secretly
took possession of them, and kept them hidden with the
greatest care.
Madame la grande-duchesse (sic) de Choiseul, who honoured
me with her regard and whose life I more than once saved,
^ Mme. Courtois died on the 25th Jan.
^ This confession on the part of Courtois seems to put it beyond a doubt
that it was among Robespierre's papers that the Queen's letter was found.
M. Campardon expresses a different opinion. As for M. E. Welvert, he
takes up no definite position in the matter, but "leaves to others the
business of discussing whether it were Robespierre or Courtois who was
the thief, or the receiver of these stolen goods."
262
MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL
was the only person who knew of the little packet of hair,
from which my wife removed a very small piece as an offering
to her. She kept this invaluable treasure, as she called it, all
her life, and begged us to add to it a bit of braid plaited by
the hands of the late Queen.
We were very careful not to speak to her of that touching
letter, that veritable masterpiece of feeling, written at half-
past foiu- in the morning of the very day that brave and
charming woman lost her life upon a scaffold that one can
hardly picture in connection with her ! Otherwise it would
have been impossible to avoid giving her (the Duchesse de
Choiseul) a copy of it. No one in the world, M. le Prefet,
except the members of the Commission, was aware that such
valuable relics of the late Queen were in existence ; and thus,
when they reach the hands of the august Sovereign who
rules over us, they will be, as it were, still unsullied.
And so, after all these vicissitudes, at the end of twenty-two
years, after lying in the portfolios of the Tribunal and the mat-
tress of Robespierre and the library of Courtois, the Queen's last
letter reached — not its destination, for the woman for whom it
was written had long been dead — but at least the hands of Marie
Antoinette's daughter, who fainted away, it is said, when she
received this paper, yellow with age and still blotted with her
mother's last tears. The King issued an order that on the l6th
October of each year it should be read aloud in the pulpit of
every church in France.^ Millions of facsimiles of it were
printed. As for the original, it was deposited among the State
Archives, where it lies in a special case beside the will of
Louis XVI.
' Under the Restoration the fa9ade of the Temple was draped with
black on the 21at of January, and the top storey was surmounted by a
cenotaph decorated with the arms of France and surrounded by lighted
tapers. Upon a black book were written the words: "Son of Saint
Louis, ascend to Heaven." — La Quotidienne for the year 1821.
263
THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE
If the historians of Marie Antoinette are to be believed it was
not until a fortnight after the Queen's death that her remains
were buried.^
What became of her body during these fifteen days ? No
doubt it was thrown down upon the grass in some corner of the
Cemetery of the Madeleine, to await further orders that never
came ; and so it was forgotten. At last the grave-digger Joly
took it upon himself to dig a hole, to place in it the remains of
the victim, and to submit this bill for funeral expenses to the
authorities for their approval —
The Widow Capet, for the coffin 6 livres.
For the grave and grave-diggers 15-35.^
And this is the only document we have relating to the Queen's
burial.
The first question we have to ask is this : where was the
Cemetery of the Madeleine .''
Louis Lazare, a Parisian journalist, has made an attempt to
elucidate the mystery. According to him ^ the cemetery " ad-
joined the old parish church of the Madeleine, and was entered
from the Rue de la Ville I'Evgque." This is obviously a mis-
take ; for it is a well-known fact that the Expiatory Chapel was
built on the very site of the trench, and that the altar of the
crypt stands on the precise spot where the bones of the King
and Queen were discovered in 1815. Now this spot, as we all
know, is a long way from the Rue de la Ville I'Evfique.
1 The 11th Brumaire, year II., or Nov. 1st, 1793. See Hiatoire de Marie-
Ayvtoitiette, by Maxime de la Rooheterie.
2 Memorandum in the possession of M. Fo3s6 d'Aroosse, quoted by E.
and J. de Gonoourt, Hiatoire de Marie- Antoinette.
^ Bihliotheque munivipale.
264
A. Actual position of the crypt of the Expiatox-y Chapel, on the precise
spot where the bodies of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were
buried.
B. The spot, according to Desclozeaux, where Charlotte Corday was
buried.
C. Grave of the 133 victims of the accident that took place on the
6th June, 1770, in the Place Louis XV.
D. Grave of the Duo d'OrUans, according to Desclozeaux.
E. Grave of the four priests and
500 Swiss killed on the 10th
August, according to Des-
clozeaux.
F. Common trench where the
condemned were buried
until the middle of
December, 1793.
G. Grave of 500 Swiss
Guards killed on the
10th August, ac-
cording to Des-
clozeaux.
THE OBMETKBY OF THE MADELEINE.
Bird's-eye view, based on original documents.
Drawn by M. Joseph Beuzon.
265
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
We pursued quite a different method. We spread out before
us Verniquet's great plan, showing the topography of Paris at
the time of the Revolution : we then sketched from it an outline
of the whole neighbourhood, with the old church of the
Madeleine, the Benedictine Convent, and the huge gardens that
stretched as far as the Rue de la Pdpini^re and were bisected by
the street called, from the bridge under which it passed, the
Rue de I'Arcade. We then called in the help of a map of
modern Paris, and placing the latter on Verniquet's plan found
the exact spot that was covered by the Expiatory Chapel : and
in this way we acquired the absolute certainty that the Cemetery
of the Madeleine, in 1793, was a piece of ground of a somewhat
irregular shape, enclosed by a wall, opening into the Rue d' Anjou,
and forming the northern boundary of the immense gardens of
the nuns of La Ville TEveque.^
One fact which proves beyond a doubt that the enclosure of
the cemetery had no connection with the Convent gardens is that
the first burials in this place were those of the hundred and
thirty-three victims of the accident that occurred on the 6th
June, 1770, in the Place Louis XV, on the occasion of the fetes
given in honour of the Dauphin's marriage. At that time the
property of religious communities was respected, and a trench
would not have been dug in the middle of a garden belonging to
one of the richest convents in Paris. Moreover, at the time of
the Restoration a plan was published of the cemetery, which had
then become M. Desclozeaux' garden ; and although the general
arrangement had slightly changed since M. Verniquet depicted it
in 1792, one can nevertheless recognise the shape of the plot of
ground and the close proximity of the Rue d' Anjou, so that
there is no doubt whatever as to the situation of the enclosure.
Finally, M. Desclozeaux, whom we have just mentioned, was
living in 1815 at No. 48 Rue d' Anjou, and Jacoubet's plan (1835)
places No. 48 exactly on the extension of the Rue des Mathurins
— which was cut short then, as in 1792, by the Rue de I'Arcade
• — that is to say, quite close to the plot of ground under
consideration.
Dull as this demonstration may be it is not without importance,
for such chroniclers as have had occasion to speak of the
Cemetery of the Madeleine have prudently abstained, for want
of accurate documentary evidence, from making any definite
^ See the rough plan on page 265.
266
THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE
statement. The common trenches of the Terror fell so qtiickly
and so thoroughly into oblivion thatj when Kotzebue was
travelling in France during the period of the Consulate, he could
find no one to show him the resting-place of Louis XVI. and
Marie Antoinette.
In the meantime they had been followed to the little enclosure
we have just described by many a victim of the scaffold in the
Place de la Revolution ; for the guillotine never rested, and
nearly every day the cart brought to the Rue d'Anjou one or
more baskets full of headless corpses. The doors opened, the
cart drove into the enclosure, and there, hidden by the walls,
the grave-diggers carried on their horrible work, which was not
so much seen as imagined by the people of the neighbourhood.
But indeed this quarter of the town was very sparsely populated
till the early years of the new century.
As soon as the Terror was over the owner of the house
adjoining the cemetery, Pierre Louis Olivier Desclozeaux,
formerly a lawyer, acquired possession of the burial-ground.
He restored and raised the walls, corrected the irregularities
of the enclosure, closed up the door into the Rue d'Anjou, and
made a new one into his private garden, which had once formed
part of the grounds belonging to the nuns of the Ville TEvSque.
Then, aided by tradition alone, for there were no authoritative
documents, he assigned graves in certain spots to the famous
dead who were buried there, and marked the places with shrubs
and trees and crosses. On the spot where he believed the
remains of the King and Queen to have been laid he planted
two weeping-wiUows and a hedge of hornbeam.
At the time of the Bourbons' return he intimated to Louis
XVIII. that he was prepared to place his piece of ground at the
disposal of the royal family ; and he himself gave the King the
names of those who might be able to furnish accurate informa-
tion with regard to the graves. The result of this was the
investigation of which we shall presently read the official account.
M. Desclozeaux, however, allowed his enthusiasm to run away
with him.i In a pamphlet entitled A List of Persons sentenced
' M. Desclozeaux is buried in the Cemetery of Pfere-Lachaise. The
following lines are on his tombstone. \
De la cendre des rois pieux dipositaire,
Le del daigna binir ses soins religieux ,
II a revm Louis au trSne Mriditaire
Et, comme Simion, il a fermi les yeux.
267
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
to Death by the Revolutionary Tribunal between August Z6th, 1792,
and June 13th, 1794, and buried in the Plot of Ground formerly the
Cemetery of the Madeleine, he gives a record that includes one
thousand three hundred and forty-six names, and extends, as the
title indicates, to the 13th June, 1794- This is a mistake ; for we
can only accept this date as correct by altogether ignoring the
existence of the Cemetery of Les Errancis in the Pare Monceau,
where the victims of the guillotine were buried between the
25th March and 13th June 1794. But this mistake on M.
Desclozeaux' part can be easily explained. The bodies of the
dead were ostensibly taken to the Cemetery of the Madeleine,
and it was only several days after their execution that they were
transferred by night to the Cemetery of Monceau. M. Des-
clozeaux must have noted their going in, without taking their
coming out into consideration, and this was why he credited his
cemetery with containing the remains of everyone who was
executed in the Place de la Revolution.
I think that on this particular point we may have perfect
confidence in Michelet, though as a rule he is careless in his
choice of authorities, and indeed rarely quotes the sources of his
information at all. But his chapter on the cemeteries of the
Terror was founded on a work of considerable importance, which
was undertaken especially on his account by M. Hardy, an official
in the muniment-room of the Prefecture of Police.
Briefly, the Cemetery of the Madeleine was used for burials
till the 24th March, 1794- Hubert and Clootz were the last
victims of the guillotine to be interred there.
These details will not be found useless in assisting the reader
to form an opinion, in full knowledge of the facts, with regard
to the following collection of original documents.
268
THE EXHUMATION OF THE REMAINS
OF KING LOUIS XVI. AND QUEEN
MARIE ANTOINETTE
Legal Statement by the High Chancellor of France, concernmg
all the circumstances preceding, accompanying, and following
the burial of King Louis XVL and Queen Marie Antoinette.
On the 12th May, 1814), before us, Henri d'Ambray,
Chancellor of France, personally charged by His Majesty to
make a written statement of all the circumstances that pre-
ceded, accompanied, and followed the burial of King Louis
XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette.
Appeared the witnesses hereinafter named, whom I
summoned in accordance with the information given me by
His Majesty himself, who furnished me with their names.
1st. The Sieur Sylvain Renard, formerly senior curate of
the Madeleine, residing at No. 12 Rue Caumartin, who, after
taking the oath to speak the truth, deposed independently of
the report he sent to me on the 10th inst., as follows :
" On the 20th January, 1793, the Executive Authorities
commanded M. Picavez, curi of the parish of the Madeleine,
to carry out their orders with regard to the funeral of His
Majesty Louis XVI.
" M. Picavez, feeling that he had not the courage to fill so
painful and distressing an office, professed to be ill, and de-
puted me, as his senior curate, to replace him, and to be
careful on my own responsibility that the orders issued by
the Executive Power were strictly carried out. My first
answer was a positive refusal, based on the ground that
269
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
perhaps no one had loved Louis XVI. more than I ; but on
M. Picavez very justly pointing out to me that this double
refusal might have disagreeable and, indeed, incalculable
results for both of us, I accepted this painful mission.
" Consequently, on the following day, the 21st, after having
assured myself on the evening before that the orders issued by
the Executive Power had been faithfully carried out with
regard to the quantity of quicklime and the depth of the
trench — which, as far as I can remember, was to be ten feet —
I waited at the door of the church,^ accompanied by the cross
and by the late M. TAbbe Damoreau, junior curate, for the
body of His Majesty to be brought to us. In answer to my
questions, the commissioners of the department and of the
Commune told me that the orders they had received did not
permit them to lose sight for a single moment of the remains
of Louis Capet. The body, therefore, did not enter the
church.
" We were obliged, then, M. Damoreau and I, to follow
them, and accompany them to the cemetery in the Rue
d' Anj ou-Saint-Honore.
" For the short distance we had to walk we were escorted
by a tumultuous horde of people, a regiment of dragoons,
and some unmounted gendarmes, whose band played Repub-
lican airs.
" When we reached the cemetery the body was handed
over to us, and I insisted on absolute silence. His Majesty
was dressed in a waistcoat of white pique, with breeches of
grey silk, and stockings to match. His face was not dis-
coloured, his features were unaltered, and his open eyes
seemed to be still reproaching his judges for the unspeakable
crime of which they had just been guilty.
" We then recited the prayers ordinarily used for the
burial of the dead, and I can truthfully say that this huge
crowd, which a moment before had been rending the air with
its wild clamour, listened to the prayers for the repose of His
Majesty's soul in a most religious silence.
• The allusion is to the old Church of the Madeleine, which was pulled
down at the beginning of the century and was situated at the corner of the
Rue de la Ville r!^v§que and the Eue de I'Arcade.
270
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
" Before the King's body was lowered into the grave, where
it lay uncovered in the coffin with the head between the legs,
a bed of quicklime was thrown into the trench, which was ten
feet away from the wall in accordance with the orders of the
Executive Power. The body was then covered with another
bed of quicklime and then with a bed of earth, and these, as
they were placed one on top of the other, were vigorously
beaten down several times.
" After this very painful ceremony we silently withdrew,
and as far as I can remember a formal report of the affair
was drawn up by the Juge de Paix, and signed by two
members of the department and two of the Commune.
When I returned to the church I also made out a burial
certificate, but only in an ordinary register, which was taken
away by the members of the Revolutionary Committee at the
time of the closing of the churches.
" I certify on my word of honour that this declaration that
I have been requested to make contains nothing but the
most accurate truth, and I am prepared, if necessary, to
repeat it under oath.
" In witness whereof I have signed it in Paris on the 10th
May, 1814.
Renard.
Senior Curate of the Madeleine,
42 Rue Caumartin."
Sndly. The Sieur Antoine Lamaignere, Juge de Paix of
the 1st Ward of Paris, residing at No. 8 Rue de la Concorde,
after taking the oath to speak the truth, told us that he was
not present at the King's burial, but arrived on the spot at
the moment when His Majesty's body had just been covered
with a thick bed of quickhme, and that the place which is
now surrounded with hornbeam trees, in the garden of the
Sieur Desclozeaux, is the spot where the King was buried,
and signed after reading the above.
Lamaignebe.
Srdly. The Sieur Richard Eve-Vaudremont, registrar of
the Juge de Paix of the 1st Ward, whom he accompanied on
9n\
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
the occasion of his visit to the Cemetery of the Madeleine at
the moment when the King's body was being covered with
quickhme, is in a position to attest, as he does hereby attest,
that His Majesty's body had been laid in the spot that is now
marked by two weeping- willows, in the garden of Desclozeaux ;
and after reading the above, signed in our presence.
Eve-Vaudremont.
4thly. The Sieur Emmanuel Daujou, formerly a lawyer,
residing at No. 48 Rue d'Anjou, who, after taking the oath to
speak the truth, told us that he too had witnessed the
burial of King Louis XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette ;
that he saw them lowered into their graves in open coflSns ;
that they were covered with lime and earth, well beaten
down ; that the two heads were placed between the legs of
the two royal victims ; that he could not possibly forget a
place that had become so precious and that he regarded as
sacred ; that he remembered his father-in-law, M. Desclo-
zeaux, buying the Cemetery of the Madeleine, the walls of
which were in a state of disrepair ; that he had them restored
and heightened for the sake of greater safety ; that owing to
his care the piece of ground in which lay the bodies of their
Majesties was surrounded by hornbeam trees ; that he also
planted some shrubs and two weeping-willows ; and signed
after reading the above.
Signed: Daujou.
5thly. Alexandre, Baron de Baye, Brigadier-General in the
King's army, who, after taking the oath to speak the truth,
told us that he saw the covered tumbril pass by on its way to
the Cemetery of the Rue d'Anjou with the mortal remains of
King Louis XVI. ; that he had not had the courage to follow
the funeral procession, but knew through eye-witnesses that
the body of His Majesty had been buried at the spot that
had subsequently been adorned and cared for by Desclozeaux ;
that he knew Desclozeaux had even consistently refused to
sell this piece of land, or even exchange it for a mansion in
Paris ; and after reading the above, signed.
Baiion de Baye.
272
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
Executed and sealed in Paris, at the Chancellerie, May
22nd, 1814.
Signed: D'Ambeay, Grand Chancellor.
Certified con-ect by us, assistant-secretary in the office of
the Lord High Chancellor, and member of the Legion of
Honour. Le Picaed.^
On the 18th May, 1814, we, the undersigned, Lord High
Chancellor of France, proceeded at nine o'clock in the morn-
ing to the residence of the Sieur Desclozeaux, No. 48 Rue
d'Anjou, accompanied by M. le Comte de Blacas. We found
the said Desclozeaux at home, and with him his son-in-law
the Sieur Daujou ; and they took us into the old Cemetery
of the Madeleine. They pointed out to us the spot where the
body of His Majesty Louis XVI. had been buried, and a few
steps beyond it the place where the body of Her Majesty the
Queen had been laid nine months later.
The same place was identified by the Sieur Renard, formerly
senior curate of the parish of the Madeleine, who had been
present at the King's fiineral, and had been summoned by us
in order that he might point out the spot where His Majesty's
body had been laid.
This spot, and that in which Her Majesty the Queen had
been buried, were according to these witnesses identical with
the places previously indicated to us in the depositions on
oath received by us on the 12th May, 1814. The burial-
places of the King and Queen are marked by an enclosure,
near which are planted two weeping- wiUows and some shrubs.
We carefully marked out upon the ground the places in
question, which were only a short distance from each other ;
and as a record of what we had done we drew up and signed
this document.
Executed in Paris at the Office of the Lord High Chan-
cellor on the above date at mid-day.
Desclozeaux, Daujou, Renard, the Marquis d'Ambeay,
Lord High Chancellor of France.^
' Archives de I'ancienne cha/mbre des pairs. Documents quoted by the
Abb6 Savornin, chaplain of the Expiatory Chapel.
2 Among the Archives of the Crown. Document quoted by the Abb6
Savornin.
273 T
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
On the 18th January, 1815, we, the undersigned Henri
d'Ambray, Chancellor of France, Commander of the Orders
of the King,^ accompanied by M. le Comte de Blacas,
Secretary of State ; M. le Bailly de Crussol, Peer of France ;
Monseigneur de la Fare, Bishop of Nancy, Head Chaplain to
Her Royal Highness the Duchesse d'Angouleme ; and finally
Dr. Distel, Surgeon to His Majesty, — commissioners
appointed with us by the King to search for the precious
remains of Their Majesties Louis XVI. and Queen Marie
Antoinette his august consort, — repaired at eight o'clock in
the morning to the old Cemetery of the Madeleine at No. 48
Rue d'Anjou-Saint-Honore.
Having entered the adjoining house, to which this disused
cemetery now serves as a garden, the said house being occupied
by the Sieur Desclozeaux, who formerly bought the said
cemetery in order that he might himself watch and safeguard
the precious remains that lay there, we found the said Sieur
Desclozeaux with the Sieur Daujou his son-in-law, several
members of his family, and the Abbe Renard, formerly senior
curate of the Madeleine. They took us into the old cemetery
and again pointed out to us the spot where the Sieur Daujou
had declared he knew and could attest that the bodies of
Their Majesties had been laid, as recorded in the report of
our investigations on the 12th of last May.
Having then once more inspected the side of the garden
where our prescribed search was to be made, we thought it
best to begin by looking for the body of the Queen, in order
to be more sure of discovering that of His Majesty King
Louis XVI., which we had reason to believe was nearer to the
wall of the cemetery, on the side towards the Rue d'Anjou-
Saint-Honore.
After watching the workmen — among whom was a witness
of the Queen's burial — make an excavation measuring ten
feet long by eight wide and eight deep, we came upon a bed
of lime of about ten or eleven inches deep, and we had this
removed with the greatest care. Beneath it we found the very
distinct impression of a coiiin five and a half feet in length.
^ Namely the Orders of St. Michael and of the Holy Ghost. {Traru-
lator's Tiote.)
274
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
Along the sides of this impression traced in the middle of
the bed of lime were several undamaged pieces of plank ; and
inside this coffin we found a great number of bones, obviously
a woman's, which we carefully gathered up. There were a few
missing, however, which no doubt had already been reduced
to dust ; but we found the whole head, displaced and lying
near the other extremity of the body, and showing incontest-
ably by its position than it had been severed from the trunk.
We also found some remains of a woman's garments, notably
two elastic garters in a fair state of preservation, which we
removed, together with two pieces of the coffin, to be con-
veyed to His Majesty.
We sent for a box, and in it we reverently placed the
remains, to await the leaden coffin we had ordered.
We also put on one side and fastened up in another box the
earth and lime found mingled with the bones, which was
to be placed in the same coffin.
Having completed this operation we made the men cover
up with strong planks the place where the impression of Her
Majesty the ■;_ Queen's coffin was found; and we then pro-
ceeded to search for the remains of His Majesty King Louis
XVI.
In this case also we followed the directions that had been
given us, and made the workmen dig a large hole, measuring
fifteen feet long by twelve deep, between the place where the
Queen's body had been found and the cemetery wall near the
Rue d'Anjou. We found nothing, however, to show the
presence of a bed of lime similar to that which marked the
Queen's grave, and we saw we should be obliged to dig a little
deeper in the same direction ; but the approach of night
determined us to suspend our work and postpone it till the
morrow.
We therefore left the cemetery with the workmen we had
brought with us; we carefully locked the door and took
away the key ; and we carried the two boxes mentioned above
into the salon of the Sieur Desclozeaux, after sealing them
with a seal bearing the arms of France. The said boxes were
covered with a pall and surrounded with tapers, and several
of His Majesty's chaplains came to recite the prayers of the
275 T 2
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
Church beside these precious remains during the night. The
General Superintendent of Police, whom we summoned, was
desired to post guards at the door and round the cemetery,
and we arranged to continue our operations on the following
day, between eight and nine in the morning. We then drew
up the above report of what we had done, and signed it,
together with the Sieur Desclozeaux, owner of the ground,
and the Sieur Daujou, his son-in-law.
Executed and sealed in Paris, on the above date :
Renaud, formerly senior curate of the Madeleme ;
Bailly de Crussol ; L. de la Fare, Bishop of
Nancy; Blacas d'Aulps ; Desclozeaux ; Daujou ;
le docteur Distel ; d'Ambray, Lord High
Chmwellor of France.
On the 19th January, 1815, we again proceeded to the
cemetery mentioned above, which we entered at half-past
eight in the morning with the workmen we had ordered to be
there, to go on with the half-finished work.
The workmen, in our presence, dug a trench nine feet in
depth, a short distance above the grave of Her Majesty the
Queen, and nearer to the wall on the side towards the Rue
d'Anjou. At that depth we came upon some earth mixed
with a great deal of lime and some small fragments of board,
which seemed suggestive of a wooden coffin. We continued
our search with even more caution than before, but instead of
finding a bed of pure lime such as surrounded the coffin of the
Queen we saw that the earth and lime had obviously been
mixed purposely,^ but in such a way that the lime very much
preponderated in the mixture, though it had not the same
solidity as the lime we had found in the course of our work
on the previous day.
It was in the midst of this lime and earth that we found
the bones of a man, of which several were altogether decayed
and on the point of falling into dust. The head was covered
with lime and lay among the bones of the legs, a fact which
1 This circumstance gave rise to the idea that the grave had been
searched at some previous time,
276
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
seemed all the more significant to us because this position was
mentioned as that of Louis XVI.'s head in the inquiry made
on the 12th May, 1814.
We made a very careful search to see if there were no
traces of garments left, but we could find none, no doubt
because, since there was much more lime than in the other
case, it had produced a greater effect. We collected all the
remains we could find in this confused mass of earth, lime and
bones, and we wrapped them in a large sheet that we had
prepared for the purpose, together with several pieces of un-
broken lime that were adhering to the bones.
Although the spot where the remains had been discovered
was undoubtedly the place where several eye-witnesses of the
King's burial had declared His Majesty's body to have been
laid, and the position of the head removed any possible
uncertainty as to the success of our search, yet we did not
omit to make another excavation twenty-five feet away, to a
depth of twelve feet, to see if there were no complete bed of
lime that would mark some other spot as being the King's
grave. But this additional test did but convince us still more
absolutely that we were in possession of the precious remains
of Louis XVI.
We reverently enclosed them in a case and sealed them
with the arms of France. We then removed the case to the
room in which the remains of Her Majesty the Queen were
already lying, in order that the clergy already gathered there
might continue offering up the prayers of the Church beside
the two bodies until the time, which would be fixed by the
King, when they should be placed in leaden coffins and re-
moved to the royal church of Saint-Denis.
Concerning all of which we have drawn up and written the
above report, which has been signed by the same commission-
ers and witnesses as were present at our meeting of yesterday,
and in addition to these by M. le due de Duras, peer of
France and first gentleman-of-the-bedchamber to His Majesty,
and by M. le marquis de Breze, Grand Master of the Cere-
monies of France, both of whom were present during the
investigations of to-day ; and also by M. I'abbe d' Astros, vicar-
general of Paris and one of the administrators of the diocese,
277
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
(the See being vacant), who was with us at the time of the
exhumation.^
Executed and sealed at No. 48 Rue d'Anjou, at the hour
and on the date mentioned above.
Bailly de Crussol ; L. de la Fare, Bishop of
Nancy ; Blacas d'Aulps ; Dastuos, vicar-
general; Marquis de Bbeze ; Due de Doras;
Dr. Distel; Renard; Desclozeaux ; Daujou;
d'Ambbay, Lord High Chancellor of France.
On the 20th January, 1815, at two o'clock in the afternoon,
we the undersigned, in accordance with the King's orders,
repaired to the house of the Sieur Desclozeaux, No. 48 Rue
d'Anjou, and found there on our arrival the same commission-
ers who had taken part in our previous operations, together
with such persons as were entitled by their offices or by the
King's commands to be present while the precious remains of
Their Majesties Louis XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette were
removed from the sealed cases in which they lay, in a room of
the said house, and placed in lead coffins. To wit the follow-
ing commissioners : M. le Comte de Blacas, Grand Master of
the King's Wardrobe ; Monseigneur de la Fare, Bishop of
Nancy ; M. le Bailly de Crussol, Peer of France ; and in
addition to these the Due de Duras, Peer of France ; Ch. de
Crecy ; de Noailles, Prince de Poix, Peer of France and Cap-
1 An eye-witness of this ceremony has recorded various incidents that
would have been unsuitable in the official documents.
" The Cemetery of the Madeleine had been unused since 1720 and was
only re-opened in 1793. . . . After Robespierre's death it was again
deserted, and being sold as national property was acquired by M.
Desclozeaux, whose house adjoined this melancholy plot of ground. He
had planted sweet-scented and allegorical trees in it, and had levelled the
ground and covered it with green turf mingled with flowers ; and in the
northern corner a little stone cross marked the burial-place of the good King.
Louis XVI. 's body was found ten feet below the surface ; that of the
Queen was not buried so deeply. A very thick bed of petrified lime pro-
tected the Queen's coffin, and the spectators were amazed to see that
after twenty years there were still some remains of her body. M. de
Barentin, who was eighty years of age, clasped his hands and prayed,
kneeling on a little hill. When the grave-diggers produced one of the
Queen's stockings, her elastic garters, and some of her hair, the Prince de
Poix burst into tears, uttered a cry, and fell fainting to the ground. I
was at a window of the neighbouring house, and was myself a witness of
all I have just described."
278
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
tain of the King's Guards, who was in the service of His
Majesty Louis XVI. until the 10th August, 1792, inclusive.
In the presence of which persons we examined the boxes and
saw that the seals were intact, and having broken these we
proceeded to transfer the precious remains from the said boxes
to the leaden coffins prepared for the purpose.
The mortal remains of His Majesty Louis XVI. were placed
in a large coffin with several pieces of lime, which had been
found with pieces of board from a wooden coffin adhering to
them ; the leaden coffin was then at once covered up and
soldered by the plumbers we had ordered to be there, and on
the lid was fixed a plate of silver-gilt bearing this inscription :
" Here lies the body of the very high, very puissant and very
excellent prince, Louis XVI. of the name, by the grace of God
King of France and Navarre."
The same operation was carried out, in the presence of the
same persons, with regard to the remains of Her Majesty
Queen Marie Antoinette, and the coffin containing them was
closed in the same way and soldered by the same plumbers,
and thus inscribed :
" Here lies the body of the very high, very puissant and
very excellent Princess Marie-Antoinette-Josephine-Jeanne
de Lorraine, archduchess of Austria, wife of the very high,
very puissant and very excellent prince Louis XVI., by the
grace of God King of France and Navarre."
The two coffins were then covered with the pall, and left to
await the time appointed by the King for the removal to
Saint-Denis of the two bodies that had been so providentially
recovered.
Concerning all of which we have drawn up and sealed
this report, which has been signed, with us, by the above-
named persons, together with Desclozeaux, owner of the
house, and Daujou his son-in-law, in Paris, on the above date.
Desclozeaux; Daujou; Renaed; Distel, Surgeon
to His Majesty; de Noailles, Prince de Poix ;
L. DE LA Fare, Bishop of Nancy; Bailly
DE Cuussol ; Due de Duras ; Ch. de Ceecy ;
DE Blacas d'Aulps ; Marquis d'Ambray,
Chancellor of France.
280
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
We, Louis, etc., have ordained and do hereby ordain as
follows : A monument shall be erected to the memory of
King Louis XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette, of which the
first stone shall be laid on the 21st January, 1815.
Signed : Louis.
Foundation of the Royal Chapter of Saint-Denis.
We, Louis, etc., have ordained and do hereby ordain that
a royal Chapter shall be established in perpetuity at Saint-
Denis, for aged or infirm bishops and priests who, after a long
ministry, shall be in need of rest from their holy labours.
They will replace the religious order that formerly guarded
the dust of the Kings. These venerable men, in virtue of
their age, their vouchers of respectability, and their labours,
will become the natural guardians of that asylum of the dead,
and of the precious remains of Louis XVI. and Queen Marie
Antoinette, which are shortly to be transferred thither, etc.
Given at the Palace of the Tuileries, on the \9th Jan. 1815.
Signed: Louis.
Reward granted to M. Desclozeaux.
The King, desiring to reward the pious devotion of M.
Desclozeaux, to whom France owes the preservation of the
mortal remains of Their Majesties Louis XVI. and the Queen
his august consort, — since by purchasing the ground in which
their bodies were buried he secured the safety of these precious
relics, — has granted him the order of Saint Michael and a
pension reversible to his two daughters.^
Paris, 20th Jan. 1815.
Blacas d'Aulps,
Minister of the King's Household.
On the following day, January 21st, 1815, the twenty-second
anniversary of the King's execution, the remains of Louis XVI.
^ Madame la duchesse d'Angoulerae had already presented M. Desclozeaux
with the portraits of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, as a mark of her
gratitude.
281
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
and Marie Antoinette were solemnly conveyed from the house of
M. Desclozeaux to the Church of Saint-Denis.
By seven o'clock in the morning all the regiments of the
garrison of Paris were armed and on their way, with crape upon
their sleeves, to line the public road between the Rue d'Anjou
and the Church of Saint-Denis. At half-past nine the coffins
were carried from the chapelle ardente to the hearse by twelve
men belonging to the Scottish company of the Guards of La
Manche ; and the procession started on its way.
By a coincidence that was perhaps designed the road from the
Madeleine to the Porte Saint-Denis, which Louis XVI. 's body
PLAN OP THE VAULT OF THE BOURBONS.
followed that day, was the same road by which the condemned
King had travelled in the opposite direction, on the same day
and at precisely the same hour, two and twenty years before.
A similar display of troops lined the boulevard on both sides,
and, as in 1793, a strong detachment o{ gendarmerie led the way,
while the grenadiers and light infantry of the line marched in
close column with their arms " at the carry," preceded by their
colonels and bands. The procession proper consisted of three
eight-horsed carriages belonging to the Court, eight eight-
horsed royal carriages, the carriages of the Due d'Angoulfime
and the Due de Berry, four mounted heralds, the Grand-Master,
Master, and Assistant Masters of the Ceremonies, also mounted,
the hearse, the hundred Swiss Guards, and the Body Guard.
Guns were fired at intervals of a minute, the drums and other
9m
M
s
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
instruments were veiled in black serge, the flags and standards
had each a mourning badge of crape.
At mid-day the funeral service began at Saint-Denis. The
whole Court and all the governmental bodies were present ; but
the King did not appear, and none of the contemporary accounts
make any mention of Madame la duchesse d'Angoul^me as
taking part in the proceedings. After the Dies irw had been
chanted to muted instruments Monseigneur de Boulogne, Bishop
of Troyes, gave a long funeral oration ; then the Absolution was
pronounced and the coffins taken down into the vaults, whither
Monseigneur the Due d'Angouleme and Monseigneur the Due
de Berry accompanied them. As the door of the crypt opened
to receive the remains of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette the
roar of many guns was heard, and at the same moment all the
bells began to ring. At two o'clock the ceremony was
finished.
This vault where the remains of the King and Queen were
laid that day in the very centre of the crypt, under the choir of
the basilica, had been set apart for more than two centuries as
the burial-place of the House of Bourbon. In 1793 the Conven-
tion, prompted by a report by Bar^re, had decreed the removal
of all the coffins at Saint-Denis, and on the 6th, 7th and 8th
August the first steps were taken towards carrying out this
order. On these days, however, none but the tombs of the
Capetians were touched.
On Saturday, October 12th, the vault of the Bourbons was
opened and the body of Henri IV. removed. It appears that the
workmen did nothing on the Sunday ; but on Monday the 14th
they opened the coffins of Louis XIII., Louis XIV., Anne of
Austria, Marie de Medicis, Marie Therese, and the Grand
Dauphin. On the 15th October twenty-one more bodies were
thrown into the common trench, and again on Wednesday the
l6th, while Marie Antoinette was on her way to the scaffold,
twenty-one coffins were opened, including those of Louis XV.
and Louis Joseph Xavier, first Dauphin, the son of the Queen
who died in that same hour. And by the 25th October the
basilica had been robbed of all its tombs, or at least of all that
could be found.
We have just seen how the bodies of Louis XVI. and Marie
Antoinette were laid in the empty, desolate vault. During the
period of the Restoration they were followed thither by the remains
283
LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE
of Louis XV.'s daughters, Mesdames Adelaide and Victoire, who
died abroad and were laid in the vault of Saint-Denis in 1817.
Then, in 1818, came the Prince de Conde ; in 1820 the Due de
Berry and the two little princesses, his daughters, who died when
they were only a few days old ; in 1 824, Louis XVIIL ; and in 1 830
the Prince de Conde, who died at Saint-Leu. The coflBns of
King Louis VIL, of Louise de Lorraine, Henri IIL's wife, and
of two princes of the House of Cond6, which had escaped the
profanations of 1793, were also placed here. Such was the vault
of the Bourbons at the time of the Revolution of 1830.
It was not opened again till 1859. In that year Napoleon III.
ordered a huge crypt to be prepared, to receive the remains of
members of the imperial family ; and indeed he seems to have
thought of placing the body of Napoleon I. here. This under-
taking reduced the size of the vault of the Bourbons by more
than a half. M. le Comte de Chambord, on being consulted,
expressed a desire that this vault where his ancestors lay should
be closed and made inaccessible, in consequence of which the
door was walled up. This state of things remained unaltered
until a few years ago, when fresh repairs made it necessary
for the architects to enter this chapel of the dead, where
damp, mildew, and the ravages of time were freely working
their will.
But before the recent repairs this crypt, one must admit,
presented as moving a sight as could possibly be seen. It was
visible only through a grated skylight : its dismal walls showed
dimly in the faint glow of a lamp, lit from without ; and through
the shadows loomed the vague outlines of the coffins, with their
tattered velvet palls all ruined by the damp. From this desolate
spot there rose a breath of fetid air.
The vault has now been cleaned, and though the public is
never admitted it is at least possible to open the door, so that
the place can be kept decently cared for. No drawing of it, we
believe, has been published until now : the sketch we reproduce
was taken on the spot by M. Joseph Beuzon, on the occasion
of M. Maurice Pascal's visit to the royal burial-place on
the 24th March, 1896.^ The plan that accompanies the print
' " The Government," wrote M. Maurice Pascal to us at the time, " has
provided, at its own expense, some new coflBus of a very simple kind, into
which have been slipped the old coffins that are so greatly damaged by
time. Monseigneur le due d'Aumale, however, has had the coffins of the
284
EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN
will enable the reader to identify the coffin of Queen Marie
Antoinette.
Princes de Cond6 re-covered and ornamented with a silver plate. On the
coffin that contains the remains of the Queen are engraved these words
only: Marie- Antoinette, de Lorraine-Autriche, ipcmse de Louis XVI, roi
de France. A great mass of plaster had fallen on this coffin from the roof.
The Comtesse de Hulst, the Comte de Reiset, and I took out our handker-
chiefs and cleaned this poor coffin that seems to be pursued by fate even
here in its resting-place. Close beside that of the Queen is that of Louis
XVIII. , in a fair state of preservation. It has therefore not been touched :
one can distinguish its covering of violet velvet beneath the thick coat-
ing of dust ; and the gold lace glittered in the light of our candles."
285
INDEX
INDEX
Abbatb Prison, 129, 236 ; imprison-
ment of M. Rohan-Chabot,20a!ndii.
Abbaye-Saint-Germain, battalion of,
16
Adelaide, Mme., 283
Admiralty Court, 238 and n% 239
Almanack, Royal, for 1780, cited,
238 M=; for 1793, 33
Ambray, Henri d'. Chancellor of
France, statement concerning burial
of Marie Antoinette and Louis
XVI., 269-84
Amnesty, law of 1816, 258
Andre, d', 260
Angers, 77
Angoulgme, Due d', 221, 281, 282
Angouleme, Duchesse d', 211-12,
215 m, 220-21, 245, 274, 282 ;
gratitude to Turgy, 60; incidents
of her imprisonment in the Temple,
69, 70, 79, 80, 115 andn, 137-43 ;
account of M. Antoinette's suffer-
ings, 96 n ; characteristics, 175 ;
reference of Rosalie Lamorli^re
to, 180 ; evidence regarding Marie
Antoinette, 196 ; reward to the
Abb^ Magnin, 203 ; letter of Marie
Antoinette to, quoted, 260 ; receives
her mother's will, 263
Anjou, Margaret of, 142 m
Anne of Austria, 282
Archier, M., deputy, motions of,
19-20
Arcosse, M. Foss6 d', 264 m"
Arsenal, the attack on the, 202
Artois, Comte d', his offices in the
Temple, 23, 24, 26 : see alio Charles X.
Artois, Province of, protest of the
Communes, 92-93
Assembly, the Legislative, Royal
Family detained after the Varennes
flight, 1-3, 9-12; sitting of August
11th, verbatim report, 14-20 ; over-
ruled by the Paris Commune,
21-22 ; Daujon's appeal to, 43 ;
grant to Louis XVI., 88 n
Astros, M. I'Abb^ d', 277, 278
Atkins, Mrs., 196
Aubier, M. de, 8ra
Aughi^ M., 7)1
Aughi^, Mme. Adelaide : see Augu-
aire, Mme.
Auguaire, Mme. , 7 and n
Aulps, d' : see Blaoas
Aumale, Due d', 283 m
Aussonne, Lafont d', historical accu-
racy disputed, 150, 152 mS 156 m^
190, 244 m ; Mimoire av, Roi,
quoted, 156 ra ^ ; treatment of
Rosalie Lamorli^re's story, 175 ;
attack on the Abb^ Magnin's state-
ment, 203-4 ; Lafausse Communion
de la Reine, 223-24; attempt to
subvert evidence in matter of the
Queen's Communion, 224-26
Austria, negotiations with, as to
Marie Antoinette, 145-47
Auteuil, 178
Autun, seminary of, 203
Bailly, M., 133, 235
Barassin, 161 and n ^
Barbier, M. A. T., 33 tj
Barentin, M. de, 278 m
Barillet, Recherches sur le Temple, 22
Barnave, death of, 141
Barrfere, M., 147, 282
Basset trial, the, 196
Batz, M. , plot to save the King, 99 m,
196
Bault, Mme., 212, 221-22, 247m;
narrative of, 186-95; testifies to
289
u
INDEX
Abb6 Maguin's story, 204-5 ;
letters to M. Magnin quoted, '233,,
227 ; Aussonne'a attempt to bribe,
224-26
Bault, M., 158 ra, 212-13, 218, 242,
256 ; installed at the Conciergerie,
187-95; letter from M. Lafont
d'Aussonne to, 224r-26
Baye, Baron de, 272
Bazin and Civeton, MM., Engraving
of M. Menjaud's picture by, 215 n
Bazire, account of the September
massacres, 48
Beauchesne, cited, 22, 33, 34
Beaulieu, Madame, 152 and n^
Beaulieu, M., 152
Bfehet, M. , ministrations to prisoners
of the Conciergerie, 198
Becquey, M., 258, 262
Bellang6, architect of the Temple, 23
Bernard, Pierre (or Jacques Claude),
Commissioner, 76 ajid n; 95 m, 1 14
Berry, Due de, 205 n, 215 m, 281-83
Bertaud, 153
Bertin, M. Georges, cited, 33
Beugneou, 110
Beugnot, M., 151
Beuzon, M. Joseph, 265, 283
Billaud-Varennes, Prooureur-g^n^ral
to the Commune, 62 ; quoted, 52
Blacas, M. le Comte de, 273, 274, 276,
278, 279, 280
Blamont, Mme. de, recovers her
liberty, 197 n
Blanc, Louis, Histoire de la Rivolution,
127 »
Blandin, M., 220
Bombelles, Mme. de, 78
Bon, Jean, 147
Borie, Commissioner, 56
Boulogne, Monseigneur de, Bishop of
Troyes, 282
Bourbon, House of, burial-place of,
281, 282-84 and nn
Bourbon-Cond6, Princesse Louise
Adelaide de, 61
Bonyou, M. , murder of, 6 n
Boze, Mme. 160-61 and n ; informa-
tion given to Mme. Simon-Vouet,
177-78
Br^ard, M., deputy, motions of, 16,
18
Brfe6, le Marquis de, 8 and n ; 277,
278
Brienne, Lomenie de, 255 n
Briges, M. de, 8 n
BrisBot, followers of, death of
decreed, 147, 148-49
Brunier, Dr., Tison's accusations
against, 96 n, 129 n ; sent for by
Marie Antoinette, 115 and n, 116
Brunot, Tison's accusations against,
96 », 129 n.
Brussels, negotiations with, as to
Marie Antoinette, 145, 147
Bruyan, Abb^ Philibert, 198 n
Bflne, de, 171
Burger, Mr., letters to Lord Gran-
ville, 58 n
Burial of the victims of the Revolu-
tion, 267, 268
Busne, Louis Franfois de, 229 ; narra-
tive of Marie Antoinette's execution
by, 245-46
Geesar's Tower, in the Temple, 25
Calon, M., 14
Cambon, 147
Campan, Mme., 7 n
Campardon, M., 196, 247 n, 262 n,
cited, 50, 170 », 252 Ji
Carlet, M., 26
Carnation, affair of the, effects, 146,
149, 157, 159 «, 164-66, 212, 241
Carrousel, the, 54 n
Caumont, Commissioner, 56
Cemeteries of the Terror, 268
Cemetery of the Precincts of the
Temple, 26
Chabot, deputy, 62, 146
Challamel, A., Clubs Oontre-rivolu-
tionnaires, 196 n
Chambord, M. le Comte de, 283
Chambre des Comptes, Paris, 99 n
Champion, M., 222
Champs-Elys^es, 5
Chantilly, 147
Charles X., 215 n
Charles, M. : see Magnin, Abb6
Ch3.telet, the, Septembrist attack on,
54m
Chaumette, M., Procureurof the Tri-
bune, reply to Cubi&res,67« ; Coun-
cil meeting on day of King's death,
95 ; visit to the Temple, 96 m, 108 ;
regulations regarding the Midnight
Mass on Christmas Eve, 110 ; plate
used by the Queen in the possession
of, 162 TO
Chauveau-Lagarde, M., Counsel for
the Queen, 253 n, 260 ; Notes of
the Trial by, 228-34
290
INDEX
262-63
the
219,
Chimay, Mme. le Prinoesse de, 212.
219-21
Choiseul, Duohesse de, 259,
Choiseul, M. de, 8ra
Choisy-le-Roi, Chateau de, 76
Cholet, M., AbbA, visits to
Conciergerie, 214 and n,
222
Choudieu, M., motions of, 14-16, 18-
19
Chousy, M. Menard de, 60
Chretien, man-servant in the Temple,
30, 80, 135
Christmas Eve, 1792, suspension of
the Midnight Mass, 110
Cl^ry, M., accompanies Royal Family
to the Temple, 12 ; History of the
Temple, 34^35 ; Journal cited, 41
and n, 63 ; meeting with Turgy,
59 ; his duties in the Temple, 69-
70, 83, 88, 94, 105, 108, 135 and n,
136, 138,139, 187; note from Louis
XVI., 70 ; his room in the Temple,
90 ; forbidden to attend on Marie
Antoinette, 97 ; sorrow on death
of the King, 98-99 ; gives Com-
munion Tablecloth of Louis XVI.
to Lepitre, 116
Clootz, 268
Cointre, M. le, 260, 262
Colbert, Inspection of Ancient Build-
ings, report cited, 84 n
CoUard, Royer, 214 ra
College de France, 81
Colombeau, registrar, 108
Colson, Mme., 158
Commandery of the Temple, 24-25,
25 re
Committee of General Security, 257 ;
measures to prevent escape of the
Royal Family, 39 ; investigation of
the Carnation conspiracy, 158-59
and n
Committee of Public Safety, measures
to prevent escape of Royal Family,
39, 42 n ; their perplexity in deal-
ing with the Queen, 145, 146 ;
secret meeting of September 2nd,
minutes quoted, 146-49
Committee of Surveillance of the
Legislative Assembly, 14, 39
Commune of Paris— Convention and,
relations between, 104, 130 ; Dau-
jon's appeal to, 43 ; General Coun-
cil of, control ''over Council of the
Temple, 37-38, 41, 113, 134; com-
position, 89 ; sitting of August
loth, 81 ; Goret's account of, 82 ;
sitting of April 20th, 1793, 129 n ;
sitting of September 30th, 1793,
136 n ; Legislative Assembly and,
relations between, 16 n, 21-22,
23 re ; treatment of the Royal
Family, 96 re ; reception in the
Temple, 27 ; measures to prevent
their escape, 39-40, 40 ra ; visits to
the Temple, 62; report of food
consumed by the prisoners, 86-87 n ;
provision for meals for the Royal
Family, 88 ; arrangements for the
King's death, 85 ; general feelings
of, on the King's death, 114;
question of the Queen's mourning,
115
Communes of Artois, the law-suit by,
92-93
Conciergerie, the — C ouncil Room,
position of, 151, 152 re ; Cour des
Femmes, 158, 167 ; drawing of,
189 ; Cour du Pr&u, 239 ; Marie
Antoinette transferred from the
Temple to, 144^45 ; details of her
imprisonment (Mme. Simon Vouet),
176-85 ; (Mme. Bault), 186-95 ;
(Rosalie Lamorli^re), 150-71 ; the
Queen's Communion, 196-206, 210,
213, 215-27 ; Mass celebrated by
the Abb6 Magnin, 200 ; plan of
part of, 1793, 151 ; passage leading
to the Queen's cell, illustration,
155 ; religious ministrations for the
condemned, 198-204
Cond6, Prince de, 72, 283
Convention, the — Committees of, 69,
130; Decree of, summoning the
Queen before the Tribunal, 145 ;
Louis XVI. taken before, 32, 108 ;
their promise to him, 140-41 ;
measures to prevent escape of
Royal Family, 39 ; Paris to be
allied with, by death of Marie
Antoinette, 147 ; St. Denis, re-
moval of cofSns from, decreed by,
1793, 282 ; separation of the Royal
prisoners, 112; votes of, sale of,
146
Corday, Charlotte, 265
Cordeliers, the, 77
Cornu, Mme., 162 re
Cortey, M. de, plot to save the King,
99 re
Couci-le-Ch§.teau, 85
291
u 2
INDEX
Council of the Temple, composition
and working of the, 37-38, 41, 43,
83, 134
Cour de la Corderie, Temple, 25
Cour de la Saint-Chapelle, 153
Cour de Chameau, Temple, 25
Cour du Lion d'Or, Temple, 25
Cournaud, Abb6, 81
Court of the Chapter-house, Temple,
26, 27
Court of the Dungeon, Temple, 27
Courtois, Edme Bonaventure, 256 ;
retention of the Queen's glove,
193 n ; conduct of, in matter of
Marie Antoinette's will, 257-63
Courtois, Mme., 262 and n
Crdcy, Ch. de, 278, 279
Cr^qui, Marquise de, 173 and n
CrusBol, M. le Bailly de, 274, 276,
278, 279
Cuhi^res, Chevalier de, account of,
67 »
Curzon, Henri de. La Maison du
Temple, quoted, 26, 84 re
Custine, General, 153
Bamoebau, M. I'Abb^, 270
Dangers, inspector of police, 187
Danjou, Jean Pierre, unfrocked priest,
confusion of facts regarding, 33-34,
95 and n
Danton, 261 ; death, 198 n
Dash, Comtesse, Mimoires des autres,
177 m
Dauban, 253 n '
Daujon, Commissioner of the Tribune,
narrative of, 33-58 ; character,
35-36
Daujou, Sieur Emmanuel, 272, 273,
276, 278, 279
Dauphin, the Grand, 282
Dauphin, the : see Louis XVII.
David, sketch of the Queen on her
way to the scaffold, by, 251
Deconzi^, M., Bishop of Barras, 93
and n
Degon : see Courtois
Delarc, Abbi5, 198 n
Delesquelle, commissioner, 57
Delille, Abb^, 81
Dentzel, 202 n
Desclozeaux, Pierre Louis Olivier, his
ownership of the burial-place of
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette,
265-68, 271-79 passim; rewards
given to, 280 and n
D^sessarts, narrative of Marie An-
toinette's execution by, 249
Desfossfe, Vicomte Charles, narrative
of Marie Antoinette's execution
by, 250 and n 252
Desjardins, Abbe, 204, 221
Devienne, Mme., at Sainte-P^lagie,
132
Distel, Dr., 274, 276, 278, 279
Dobsent, 149
Drake, Francis, secret service of, 51 n,
146-47 ; MSS. of, quoted, 147-49
and n
Dreux, remains of Mme. de Lam-
balle at, 52, 55
Dropmore, 51 «, 58 n
Duoatel, 231 m
Dufengray, Sieur, quoted, 162 n
Dufour, narrative of, 4-12
DufrSne, gendarme, 156 re'-, 157, 244
Dumasbon, Francoise Germaine, 106 re
Duplay, 256
Duport, Adrien, 260
Duport-du-Terre, death of, 141
Duras, M. le Due de, 277-79
Dutilleul, Mile., 187
EcKAED, Hiatoire de Louis X VII, 60
Edgeworth, Abb^ : see Firmont
figremont, Mme. d', in Les Feuillants,
7 and re, 12
i^lizabeth, Madame — Code of signs
arranged with Turgy, 72-73 ; list in
her handwriting, 64 ; Dauphin's
deposition, her horror at, 35 ; death
of, 255 ; imprisonment in the
Temple, incidents (Daujon), 41 ;
(Turgy), 63, 64, 69-74; (Goret),
82-85, 90-91, 96 m, 97-101;
(Lepitre), 106-31 passim ; (Moelle),
137-143 passim ; letters and notes
to Turgy in the Temple, 59, 70,
71, 76-80, 107 re; to Mile. S^rent,
66 ; Marie Antoinette's enquiries
for, 192 ; the Queen's letter to,
222-23 ; see also Marie Antoinette,
will of ; personality, 124, 141^2
Emery, Abb6, ministrations in the
Conciergerie, 198-200 ; account of,
199 m
Emigrte, laws against, 66
Emilie de Laborde, 116 re
England, secret information as to
French affairs, 146-47
Errancis, Les, cemetery of, 268
292
INDEX
Eudel, Paul, L'Hdtel Drouot et la Gobel, 146
curiosiU, 256 re
Eve-Vaudremont, Sieur Richard,
271-72
Expiatory chapel, position of, 264-66
Fabbicius, Registrar, 243
Fare, Mgnr. de la, 274-76, 278, 279
Faubourg Antoine, storming of, 202 n
Faubourg Saint-Honord, 5
Faubourg Saint-Martin, 35
Fauchet, M., deputy, motion of, 20
Federation Festival, 77
Ferrie, Sieur Pierre, 56
Firmont, Abb6 Edgeworth de,
Mimoires, 73 and n ; mentioned in
letters of Mme. Elizabeth, 78
Fleury, Mme., at Sainte-P61agie, 132
Follope, M., warning to Turgy, 74-5,
75™
Forgues, 147
Fortescue, J. B., MSS. of, 51 », 58 m,
146 re, 149 re
Fortescue, Mile., 215 re, 227; Abb6
Magnin introduced into the Con-
eiergerie by, 200, 218-19, 221 ; Re-
collections of, 207-14; victims of
the Revolution assisted by, 217-18
Fouch6, Rev. Father, letter of,
quoted, 209 re
Foundlings' Cemetery, Mme. de
Lamballe's head buried in, 57
Fouquier-Tinville, official acts as
Member of the Revolutionary Tri-
bunal, 145, 157, 183, 191, 193 and
re, 194, 196 re, 201, 232 re, 236, 241,
256, 260, 262
France, power of money in, 146
Friedrichs, M. Otto, collection of, 30
Proidure, 144
Gachbt, opens canteen in Temple, 30
Gagni6, man-servant in Temple, 30
Garde-Meuhle of the Crown, 5-6
Gaulot, Paul, Un Complot sous la
Terreur, 102 n, 107 n, 116 n
Genet, M., 7»
G^rardin, illustration by, 155
Gilbert, Gendarme, 156 n^ 157, 244
Gilbert-des-Voisins, M., 241
Girard, M., Cur6 of Saint-Landry,
ministrations of, refused by Marie
Antoinette, 167 re, 204 re, 223
Giraud, M., surgeon, 196 re
Girondists, the Address against the,
130
Goguelat, M. de, 8 re
Golowkin, Comtesse de, 212
Goncourt, E. and J. de, Histoire de
Marie Antoinette, quoted, 264 re ^
Goret, M., Town-Councillor, 32, 34;
quoted concerning the deposition
of the Dauphin, 35 ; description
of Daujon, 35-36 ; narrative of,
81-101
Goaselin, Abbe, Vie de M. ilmery,
199 re
Grammont, 252 and n
Grangeneuve, connection with the
Rohan-Chabot incident, 14^20
Grenville, Lord, correspondence of
Francis Drake with, 51 and re, 146
Guadet, President, 2
Guards of La Manche, 281
Guffroy, M., 260, 262
Guy, clerk (probably Guy Ricard),
loyalty of, 116 re, 118
Guyot, Mme., plan for Marie An-
toinette's escape, 196 re
Halles, Section des, 55
Hanriot, Commander-in-Chief, 144
Hardy, M., 268
Harel, Mme., surveillance of Marie
Antoinette in the Conciergerie, 156
and re, 157-59, 241
Haussmann, M., deputy, 17, 20
Haymarket section, 56
Hubert, 229, 236, 268 ; the deposition
of the Dauphin, 35, 50-51 ; visit
to Mme. Elizabeth, 79 ; denuncia-
tion of Toulan and Lepitre, 125,
127 ; his accusations against Marie
Antoinette, 132, 133, 236; death
of Marie Antoinette demanded by,
147-49
Heninli^tard, commune of, 93
Henuet, Ulpieu, song attributed to,
122 re
Henri IV., 282
Henriette, wife of Charles I., 142 ra
H^rault, 147
Hermopolis, Monseigneur d', 215 re
H^ron, Citizen, 224
Hervelin, Jacques-Charles, drummer,
55
Hervil^e, P. d', 198 re1
Hohenlohe, Princess of, 59
Hoapice de I'ArchevSch^, 196 re
Hospice de la Piti6, 76
293
INDEX
Hospital for Incurables, Mme. Simon-
Vouet's visit to, 178 and n, 185
Hoste de Beaulieu de Versigny, 1',
99 »
H6tel de Bel- Air, Temple, 25
Hotel de Boisboudran, Temple, 25
Hotel de Bouffleurs, Temple, 25
Hotel de Guise, Temple, 25
H6tel de Louvois, 53
H6tel de Rostaing, Temple, 25, 26
Hotel de Toulouse, 53, 54 n
Hotel Dieu, 101, 196 ; removal of the
woman Tison to, 74 aiid n
Hotel Poirier, Temple, 25
H8tel Vernicourt, Temple, 27
Hue, M. , valet de chamhre, arrest,
41 and n ; his book, 63 ; loyalty,
65, 70, 187, 196
Humbert, Bros., 230 »
Insurkection of the 4th and 5th
planned, 147 ; insurrection of
Prairial, 202
Isabey, restoration of the Marie
Antoinette portrait, 8 n
Isle-Adam, L', 147
Jacobin Clue, the, 69, 252
Jacobins, attack on La Chaste
Suzanne, 127
Jacoubet, plan of Paris, 1835, 266.
Jacquotot, M., 103 and n 105
James II. , 142 «
Jarjayes, Chevalier de, loyalty of,
102, 116 and n, 118, 119™, 196
Jarjayes, Mme. de, 233 n
Jeanne, Sister, 220
Jolivet, Mme. le, facts related by,
176-77
Joly, grave-digger, 264 and n ^
Joly, Mme., at Sainte-P61agie, 132
Jourdeuil, 264 n
Julie, Sister, 220
Juvisy, 116
KiiBAVENAN, Abb($, 198 n
Knights Templars, the, 23, 25 n ;
their idea in building the Temple
prison, 84 ra
Kocharsky, 196
Kotzebue, 267
La Chabit^-Saint-Roch, Sisters of,
197
La Ghaste Suzanne, scenes created by,
127 aTid n, 128
La Force, prison of, 53 and n, 54 n,
56, 186, 212, 242
La Vendue, rising of, 120, 121 n
LabouUte, Citoyerme, 196
LabouU^e, M., The Little Laboull6e,
196 ra
Labrousse, Chevalier de, 142
Labuzi^re, 168
Lachassaigne, Mme., 132
Lafayette, M., 254 and n ; before the
National Assembly, 18-19 ; Marie
Antoinette's condemnation of, 141
Lafiteau, Surgeon, 100 n
Lagny, M. de, 223
Lamaigufere, Sieur Antoine, 271
Lamarohe, gendarme, 156 n^, 200-
202 and n
Lamarlifere, General, 72
Lamarli^re, Mme. de, 164
Lamarque, 2
Lamballe, Prinoesse de, 231 n ;
accompanies Royal Family to Les
Feuillants, 7, 9 » ; murder of, 34,
43-49, 52-55, 186 ; finding of the
remains, 55-58 ; relations with
Philippe Egalit^, 57-58
Lamorlifere, Rosalie, Narrative of,
150-71 ; in the Hospital for In-
curables, 175 ; personality, 179 ;
Mme. Simon - Vouet's interview
with, 179-85
Lanjuinais, M., 127 and n
Larivi^re, Mme., attendance on Marie
Antoinette, 154, 156, 240
Larivifere, Louis, turnkey, 176 ; ac-
count of, 238 and n '-39 ; narrative
of the Queen's execution by, 238-44
Launoy, Mme. , 109 M
Lazare, Louis, 264
Le Monde, letter of Father Fouoh6
quoted in, 209 n ; declaration of
the Abb6 Magnin quoted, 215 n
Lebeau, the Queen's gaoler at the
Conciergerie, 158 and »-60, 164,
166-69, 181, 183
L6ohenard, the tailor, excesses at the
Temple, 112 ; denounces Toulan in
the Commune, 126, 128
Legentil, Mme. Alexandre, 214 re
Ldgot, M., 260, 262
Lepitre, Jacques Frangois, 96 n ;
Recollections of, 102-33 ; character,
102-3 ; accusations against, 111,
125-26, 128-29, 129 re; relations
294
INDEX
with Toulan, 114; plan for the
Queen's escape, 116-21 ; not re-
elected Commissioner, 128 ; sent to
Sainte-P(51agie, 131-33 ; witness in
Queen's trial, 13^-33
Lequeux, sketch in the Temple, 139 «
Les Feuillants, Convent of. Royal
Family lodged in, narrative of
Dufour, 1-12
Lindsay, Englishman, 57
I/ogographe, the, Tuileries, 5
Longwy, blockade of, 40
Louis VII, 283
Louis XIII., 282
Louis XIV., 282
Louis XVI., 144, 152, 218, 243, 259,
263-65, 279; Convention, before
the, 32, 108 ; Commune troubles in
Artois, remark concerning, 93-93 ;
Communion tablecloth preserved
by Cl^ry, 116 ; Daujon, gratitude
to, 34^35 ; Dauphin, education of
the, 82, 91 ; Death of, 147; (Turgy),
69 ; (Goret), 95-96 ; (Santerre), 98 ;
popular sympathy, 113-14; Ex-
humation of his body, 269-76 ; re-
burial, 277-82; Fear of the
Septembriseurs, 42, 49-50; Im-
prisonment— .irrival in the Temple,
28-29 ; incidents (Daujon), 40-41 ;
(Turgy), 66; (Goret), 82-94, 97;
(Lepitre), 108-14; (Moelle), 136-40;
Library in the Temple, 137 « ;
Personality (Goret), 94 ; (Lepitre),
108; (Moelle), 136-37; Plot for
. his escape. Clary's account, 98-99,
99m; Separation from the Queen,
Lepitre's attempts for re-union,
112-13 ; Wardrobe in the Temple,
136 m
Louis XVIL, 147, 157, 165; Arrival
at the Temple, 27 ; Deposition,
the, wrung from him by Hubert,
35, 50-51; Education in the Temple,
82, 91 ; Hubert's treatment of,
51 ; Imprisonment in the Temple,
incidents of (Turgy), 71, 76, 77 ;
(Goret), 83, 87 re, 100; (Lepitre),
108-31 passim; (Moelle), 136^3
passim ; Personality (Daujon), 42
and n ; (Moelle), 142-43 ; Song
composed for, on death of his father,
121-22
Louis XVIII., 162 re, 215 n, 221, 267,
283, 284 n ; testimonial to Tiirgy,
60 ; declares himself Regent, 71 ;
foundation of Chapter of St. Denis
by, 280
Louis Joseph Xavier, Dauphin, 282
Louis Philippe, 215 re
Louise de Lorraine, 283
Luxembourg Palace proposed as
prison for the Royal Family, 21
Madeleine, Cemetery of the, 1793,
position, 264, 266-67 ; burial of
Marie Antoinette, 264-84; burial
of Louis XVL, 269-84
Madeleine, old Church of the, 270 re
Madelonnettes, prison of the, 157,
158 71 ; the Richard family im-
prisoned in, 157, 172
Magnin, M. Charles Abbe, 156 n\
207, 208 ; Conciergerie, ministra-
tions in the, 194 and n, 200-203,
210, 213 ; Declaration of, 215-27 ;
facts in proof of his reliability,
215 re ; Elevation of, 215 n ; Lafont
d'Aussonne, attacks of, 203-4 ; Last
years of, account, 205 re-206 ; Resi-
dence with Demoiselles Fouohfe,
209 re
Malesherbes, M. de, 255 ; visits to
Louis XVI. in the Temple, 32,
93-95, 112
Mallemain, Mme., 79-80
Mancel, servant of, the Comte
d' Artois, 28
Mandet, M., 2
Manuel, Procureur of the Commune,
40 ; remorse of, 133 ; evidence in
the Queen's trial, 229, 234
Marat, death of, 77
Mai-chand, man-servant, 80, 135
Maribon-Montaut, M., deputy, 17-19
Marie Antoinette, Queen — Abb6 Mag-
nin, ministrations of, 200-203 ;
Burial in the cemetery of the
Madeleine, 264-68 ; exhumation of
the body, 272-76!; re-burial, 275-83,
284 n ; Characteristics, 161-62 ;
(Moelle), 141-42; Communion in
the Conciergiere, 156 n \ 196-206,
210, 213, 215-27 ; Conciergerie, her
imprisonment in : transference from
the Temple, 14t45 ; her last
night in the, 247 and re-48 ; details of
her imprisonment (Rosalie Lamor-
lifere), 150-71 ; notes by Monseig-
neur de Salamon, 172-74 ; account
by Mme. Simon- Vouet, 176-85 ;
account by Mme. Bault, 186-95 ;
295
INDEX
Confession refused in the Con-
ciergerie, 169 ; Courage and dignity
displayed at her trial, 229-33 ;
Death of : decreed Sept. 2nd,
147-49 ; the morning of the execu-
tion, 168-71, 173 ; narrative of
Larivi&re, 238-44 ; narrative of
de Busne, 245-46 ; narrative of
gendarme L^ger, 247-48 ; narrative
of D&essarts, 249 ; narrative of
Vicomte Charles Desfoss^s, 250-52 ;
narrative of Rouy, 253-54 ; Identi-
fication of her remains, 220, 275 ;
King's death, her sorrow for, 69,
99-100, 114-15 ; question of mourn-
ing, 115 ; Les Feuillants, her im-
prisonment in, 4-12 ; Letter to
Mrae. Elizabeth, 222-23; to the
Duchesse d'Angouleme, 260 ; gene-
ral destruction of her letters, 59 ;
Mile. Fouch^, visits of, 207-14;
Plots for her escape, 70-71, 116-21,
196 (see also Carnation, affair of
the) ; Relics of, 260-61 ; fate of her
possessions, 171 ; Sketch of, on her
way to the scaffold, 251 ; Temple,
details of her imprisonment (Dau-
jon), 35, 41-55 ; (Turgy), 63, 67-69,
73-74 ; (Goret), 82-86, 90-91, 96 n,
97-101; (Lepitre), 106-31 passim;
(Moelle), 137-43 passim; her re-
moval from the Temple, 131 ; Trial
of, 168-69 ; recollections of Lepitre,
132-33 ; description by Bault,
194-95 ; notes by M. Chauveau-La-
garde, 228-34 ; description by Comte
Horace de Viel-Castel, 231 n ; re-
collections of Moelle, 235-37; Ward-
robe in the Temple, 137 n ; Will of,
204 n ; intercepted by Bault,
255-56 ; handed to Pouquier-Tin-
ville, 256 ; secreted by Robespierre,
256 and n - ; stolen by Oourtois,
256-58 ; his attempts to sell it to
the Royal Family, 258-63 ; quota-
tion from, 259 ; received by the
Duchesse d'Angouleme, 203
Marie de Mediois, 282
Marie ThtSrfese, 282
Marino, 144
Martainville, M., 6 re
Martin, Marie Antoine, 260
Mass celebrated at the Conciergerie
for Marie Antoinette, 213
Massacres, the September, 34, 43-49,
52-58
Massieu, M., 260, 262
Mathey, porter in the Temple, 139 re
Mathieu, ex-Capuchin, 41 and re-42
Maussion, M. de, 261
Menjaud, painting of the Communion
in the Conciergerie, 215 re
Mercereau, stone-cutter, insults the
Queen, 109
Meunier, cook, 30
Michel, 144
Michelet, 268
Michonis, inspector of police, 78, 144,
151, 157, 158, 160, 196, 212, 241 ;
death of, 133, 186-87
Milhaut, 198 re
Military Commission, the, 202
Minier, municipal officer, 140
Miranda, the name mentioned in
Mme. Elizabeth's notes, 77
Mittau, 59, 212, 215 re, 220
Moelle, Claude Antoine Francois, 32 ;
^narrative of, 63 re, 134-43 ;' Tison's
accusation against, 96 re, 129 re ;
recollections of the trial, 235-37
MoUeville, M. Bertrand de, 223
Montaigu, Abb6, 198, 201
Montjoie, Histoire de la Seine, cited,
141 re, 158 re, 245
Montmorin, Mme. de, 255 n
Montreuil Section, the, 56
Morinerie, M. de la. Pa/piers du
Temple, cited, 82, 84 re, 86, 108 n,
129, 138 re, 144 re
Morgue, the, 54 n
Municipality, the Provisional, 68,
102, 103, 134
Nancy, Bishop of, 274, 276, 278,
279
Nantes, Fran9ais de. President, ex-
amination of M. Rohan-Chabot,
16-20
Nantouillet, M. de, 8 re
Napoleon L, 283
Napoleon III., 283
Narbonne, M., 16
National Guard, duty at the Temple,
39, 44, 83, 88 ; Marie Antoinette's
repugnance for the uniform, 242
Noailles, M. de. Prince de Poix, 14,
16, 278 and n, 279
Olivibb, pictures of, in the Temple,
23, 24
Orleans, Catholicism in, 197
Orleans, Due d', 265
296
INDEX
Pache, Mayor of Paris, visit to the
Temple, 96 n ; meeting of Com-
mittee of Public Safety in house of,
146-49
Paffe, M., 124
Palais Royal, the Septembrists at,
47, 54 n
Palloy, Patriot, Palloy's wall, 28-
32
Pantheon, Section of the, 81
Pare Monoeau, 268
Paris — Arrests of citizens decreed,
147 ; rising against the merchants
of, 121
Paris, Monseigneur the Archbishop
of, 210, 215 n, 221
Parisot, M., 69
Partiot, Mme., 8 n
Partiot, M., portrait of Marie An-
toinette in possession of, 8 n
Pascal, M. Maurice, 283 and n
Passage du Perron, 54 n
P^lagie, Sainte, prison : see Sainte-
P^lagie ^
Pelletan, Dr., 203
Penthifevre, Due de, 238 ; attempt to
secure remains of Princesse de
LambaUe, 52-55
Potion, Mayor, 49, 62 ; suspended,
92
Petit, Mme., 132
Philibert, Abb^, 198 n, 201
Philippe Egaliti, attitude on death of
Mme. de LambaUe, 57-58
Pieard, Le, 273 and n ^
Picavez, M., 269
Pi^rart, Z., Becherches historiques,
122 n
Piquet, Citizen, 30
Place de la Revolution, 249, 254,
267
Place Louis XV, accident in June,
1770, 265, 266
Place Vendome, 4, 6 m ; the Hotel de
la Chancellerie, 22
Pointel, Citizen Jacques, 54 and [n ;
secures the head of the Princesse de
LambaUe, 56-57
Poix, Prince de : see Noailles, M. de
Porte Saint-Denis, 54 n
Pouquet, Sieur Antoine, 56
Prieux, 196
Prud'homrae, gendarme, 67 n, 156 »^,
200-2, 202 n
Prussia, negotiations with, as to
Marie Antoinette, 147
897
QuAi DES OaFi;vKBS, 140
Qu61en, Mme. de, 210-11
QuMen, M. de, 206 n, 215 n
Quentin, Abb6, 206 n
Queruelle, Jean-Gabriel, 55
Quex, Le, sketch of the Temple, 28
Quinze-Vingts Section, extract from
the original minutes, 55-58
Quotidienne, La, for the year 1821,
263 re
Rabaut, Saint-Etienne, 141
Rambluzin, 257, 258
Rancourt, Mme., 132
Ray, M., 196 n
Real, Pierre Fran9ois, 130 and n
Reiset, M. de, Madame Eloff, 91 n
Renard, Sieur Sylvain, account of the
burial and exhumation of Louis
XVI. and Marie Antoinette, 269-79
passim
Renaud, Abb^, services at the Con-
ciergerie, 198 «
Renet, registrar, 56, 57
Revolutionary Tribunal, 144, 145,
202 ; their part in the Queen's
death, 147, 149, 194 ; surveillance of
the Queen in prison, 165, 167 ; takes
possession of the Queen's belong-
ings, 171 ; methods, 190-91 ; terror
inspired by, 245
Rioard, M., iospector of national
property, 70 and n
Richard, the child Fan-fan, 157
Richard, Gaoler, 153, 157, 158 re,
172-74, 176, 201, 207-8, 210, 212,
218, 239, 242, 255; the affair of
the Carnation, 157, 200 ; Rosalie
Laraorli^re's reference to, 181 ; his
dismissal, 187
Richard, Mme., guardianship of Marie
Antoinette in the Conciergerie,
152-54, 157, 158, 160, 161 n^ 162,
163, 165, 166, 242 ; death of, 177 ;
Rosalie Lamorlifere's reference to,
181
Richelieu, Mar^chal de, 99 re
Riouflfe, 151
Robert, chemist at the Temple, 115 n
Robert, lad visiting the Temple, 116
Robespierre, 36, 101, 193 re, 231 re, 256
and n ^, 262 re ^
Robiano, Comte Fran9ois de, 207 ;
pamphlet by, 203 ; method of com-
piling his narrative, 206
INDEX
Roche, Barth^lemy de la, letters of,
quoted, 198 n
Rochefoucauld, M. La, 19
Rocheterie, M. Maxime de la, Revue
des Questions Mstoriques, 206 ;
Histoire de Marie Antoinette, 230 n,
264 re
Rohan - Chabot, M. , examination
before the Assembly, 13-20
Roland, Mme., sketch of Cubi^res,
68 re
Rothe, M., 60
Rotunda of the Temple, the, 25, 27
Rouen, College of, 103
Rougeville, A. D. J. Gonzze de, Le
Vrai Chevalier de Maison Rouge,
cited, 146 re, 159 re i
Rougeville, M. de, involved in the
Carnation Conspiracy, 133, 151,
157, 196
Roux, Jacques, oflBcial report of the
King's death, 95 ; methods of
annoying the Royal Family, 1 14 ;
present at death of Louis XVI.,
114 and n
Roux, Louis, 129
Rouy, narrative of Marie Antoinette's
execution by, 253-54
Royal Guard, soldiers of the, 1
Royale, Mme. : see Augouleme,
Duchesse d'
Royalist songs, 121-22
Royalists in Paris, efforts on behalf
of the Queen, 145-46
Rue d'Anjou, 266, 267, 281
Rue d'Anjou Saint-Honor6, 270, 274,
276
Rue d' Avignon, 55
Rue de Buffaut, 134 re
Rue de Charonne, 56
Rue de Cl^ry, 53, 54 n
Rue de Coq-Saint-Jean, 33
Rue de I'Arcade, 266, 270 re
Rue de la Barillerie, 152 re ^
Rue de la Corderie, 23, 54 n, 109 n
Rue de la Pfipini^re, 266
Rue de la Rotunde, 25
Rue de la Savonnerie, 55
Rue de la Vieille-Draperie, 152 re ^
Rue de la Ville I'Ev^que, 264, 270 n ;
Convent in, 266
Rue de Saint-Louis, 103
Rue de Sfevres, 178
Rue des Ballets, 53, 54 re
Rue des Franc-Bourgeois, 54 re
Rue des Mathurins, 266
Rue des Petits-Champs, 54 re, 56
Rue du Chaume, 54 re
Rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine,
55-56
Rue du Temple, 23
Rue Haute, Temple, 25
Rue La Coutellerie, 54 n
Rue La Ferronnerie, 54 re
Rue La Tixanderie, 54 re
Rue Le Roi de Sioile, 54 re
Rue Malher, 53
Rue Popinoourt, 56
Rue Saint-Antoine, 53, 54 re
Rue Saint-Honor^, 54 re, 249-51
Rue Saint-Jacques, 102
Rue Saint-Nicholas, 56
Rue Saint-Romain, 179
Saint Andri^, 147
Saint-Cyr, 78
Saint-Denis, Royal church of, burial
of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette
in, 277-84 ; desecration of the
Bourbon vault, 282 ; Royal Chapter
of, founded, 280
Saint-Eustaohe, Church of, 110,
205 re
Saint-Gall, 78
Sainte-Genevifeve, section of, 81
Sainte-Germain-en-Laye library, 33
Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, Church of,
203, 215 ; closed during last years
of Abb6 Magnin, 205 re-206
Saint-Hugues, L. de, 196 re
Saint- Jacques-la-Boucherie, battalion
of, 55
Saint-L^ger, M. de, 163
Saint-M , vicar of, visits the
Queen in the Conoiergerie, 214 re
Saint-Nicholas-des-Champs, 215 re
Sainte-Pdlagie, prison of, 157, 222 ;
Lepitre sent to, 131-33
Saint-Roch, 203; Sisters of, 211,
220
Saint-Sulpice, Seminary of, 198
Salamon, Monseigneur de. Notes by,
172-74
Sambucy, Abb6de, 198 re, 201
Sansculottes, use of the term, 125
Sanson, Henri, executioner, 243 and
re, 250
Santerre, Commandant-General, 49,
62 ; visits to the Temple, 96, 108 ;
account of the death of Louis XVI. ,
98
298
INDEX
Sardou, M. Viotorien, collection, 33,
36, 189
Saulieu, Mme., 164
Saumur, 77
Savard, Commissioner, 56, 57
Savornin, Abb^, 273 n
S6gur, Comte Anatole de, Unilpisode
de la, Terreiir, cited, 198 n, 200 n,
201 n
S6nozau, Mme. de, 255
S^rent, Mme., correspondence with
the Temple, 65, 66, 73, 77, 78, 129 n
S^ze, M. de, defence of the King, 33
Simon, care of the Dauphin, 30, 51 ;
tribute by Goret, 100-101
Simon, Citoyenne, 32 and n, 100 n
Simon- Vouet, Mme., 230 n; inquiry
of, 175-85
Solminiao, M., 6w
Songs, Royalist, 121-22
Stable Court, Temple, 26
Suin, Mme., 132
Sulleau, M. Fran9ois, 6 and n
Swiss Guards, 2 arid n
Tasente, Princesse de, 212, 220
Tasse, M. la, sent for by the Queen,
115 and n, 116
Temple, the— Bailliage, the, 25,26,28;
Church of the, 26 ; Communication
with the outside world, methods
established by the prisoners, 109
and n ; Council of the, methods
of working, 62-63, 104, 105 ; Coun-
cil Room of the, 73, 105, 111, 135 ;
removed to the ground floor, 134
n ; Court of the Indemnity, 24 ;
Court of the Little Fortress, 24;
Grand Priory, meals prepared in,
135 ; Hanriot places in a state of
siege, 144 ; Identification of the
King's attendants, 62 ; Lamballe,
Princesse de, her remains brought
to the, 34, 43-49, 53 »; Little
Tower, the Royal Family in the,
82 ; Manor of the, plans, 27 ;
Meals for the Royal Family,
Turgot's account, 62-66 ; Moelle's,
63 re, 135-36, 139; Goret's, 86-88
andnn ; Lepitre's, 111-12 ; Palloy's
wall, 28-32 ; Passage of the In-
demnity, 24 ; Plans of the, 29, 31 ;
Porte du Bailliage, 61 ; Precincts,
22 ; plan of, 25 ; cemetery of the,
26 ; Removal of the Queen from.
131, 144-45; Royal Family's im-
prisonment, 21-32 ; Dufour's nar-
rative, 11-12 ; Daujon's narrative,
37-58 ; Turgy's narrative, 61-69 ;
Goret's narrative, 81-101 ; Le-
pitre's narrative, 104-33 ; Moelle's
narrative, 136-43 ; Stable Court,
26 ; Topography during the Revo-
lutionary period, 22-32 ; Tower of
the, Henri de Curzon's description,
84 re ; in the Visitations of Paris,
84 n ; Lepitre's description, 104
Terror, the, 207 ; Religion during,
197
Theatre de la Cit6, 103, 152 and n^
Theatre du Lyc^e, AdAle de Sacy
played at, 127 re
Theatre Francais, 132
Thuriot, M., 15
Tison, Mme, denunciation of Commis-
sioners, 72, 128-29, 129 re; mental
derangement of, 73-74, 74 n, 130
Tison, Pierre Joseph, accusations
brought by, 72, 74, 75, 96 re. 111;
account of, 74 re ; subsequent
loyalty, 76 ; duties in the Temple,
97, 98, 117, 135 ; personality,
105-6 ; spying of, 135 and n, 140
Toulan, Fran9ois Andrien, conversion
of, 66-67 ; loyalty of, 69, 76-78,
109, 110, 112, 113, 114 ; his plan
for escape of the Royal Family,
70-71, 116-21 ; prevented from
serving in the Temple, 72, 128 ;
plan of signals, 77 ; arrest of, 80
and re ; accusation against, 96 re,
126, 129 re ; account of, 106 re ; con-
demned to death, 125; escape of,
133
Toulon, re-oapture of, 146
Tour-du-Pin, M. de la, 235 and re
Tournan, 59
Tournan-en-Brie, 59, 80
Tourzel, Mme. de, in Les Feuillants,
6-7, 9 re; Mimoires quoted, 6 re^
27 ; in the Temple, 61 re
Treilhard, M., 112
Troche, M., cited, 204 re, 215 re
Tronchet, M., defence of the King,
112, 113
Tronfon-Ducoudray, M., 228 re, 230,
231, 233, 253 re ^ 260
Trouv6, Mile., 220
Tuileries, Palace of the, 254 ; meet-
ing of the Legislative Assembly in
the Riding School, 1-3 ; mob attack
299
INDEX
on August 10th, 4-6 ; attempt of
the mob to enter, with the body of
Mme. de Lamballe, 53-54, 54 n ;
gardens of the, 249
Turgy, Louis Franpois, 30, 135 ;
narrative of, 59-80 ; rewarded by
the Duchesse d'Angoul^me, 60,
109 n ; list of concerted signs
between Mme. Elizabeth and, 64,
72-73 ; notes to, from Mme. Eliza-
beth, 75-80, 107 n
Valateb, M., 215 n
Varinot, M., of Versailles, 178
Vaudeville Theatre, La Chaste
Suzanne played at, 127-28
Vaugirard, 187
Verdun, fall of, 40
Vergy, Gabrielle de, 85
Verniaud, M., 6 ra^
Verniquet, 266
Versailles, College of, 103
Versailles, Palace of, the CEil de Bceuf ,
71 and n ; population during the
Restoration, 177 n
Vertot, M., 150 m
Vioq, Sieur, 56
Victoire, Mme., 283
Viel-Castel, Oomte Horace de, quoted,
231 n
Vienna, negotiations with, as to
Marie Antoinette, 145, 147
Vigier, M. du, 6 n
Vildavrai, M. Thi6ri de, visit to
Louis XVI., 10-12
Vincent, the doctor, accusations
against, 69 n, 129 m
Vis6, Mercwre, 137
Visitation of Paris, 1495, descrip-
tion of the Temple, 84 n
Voisin, Abb6 de, 199
Vyr6, M. de, L'Histoire de Marie
Antoinette, cited, 9 n, 87 n, 115 m,
214 ra
Wallok, M. a. , cited, 250 n
War Office, Archives of, cited, 245
Weber, Memoirs, quoted, 2 n, 52-53
Welvert, Eugene, Le Saisie des
Papiers duOonventionnel, &c., cited,
257 n, 261 n, 262 n
WerthmuUer, Marie Antoinette's
portrait by, 7 n
THE END
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